Alice was waiting for them at the front door. “Morning, love,” she said to Taylor, eyeing Killian with obvious suspicion.

“Good morning, Mrs Green,” Taylor said. “This is Detective Inspector Killian. Can we have a quick word?”

“Detective Inspector?” Alice seemed impressed. “Come in. It’s not every day I have a police inspector in my house.”

They went inside to the kitchen. The jackdaw cawed loudly when they sat down at the table.

“Please excuse him,” Alice said. “He’s got the manners of a pig sometimes.”

“Jackdaws are amazing birds,” said Killian. He looked at the bird. “I rescued one when I was a kid. Kept it for three years.”

“Do you know Peter Sugden?” Taylor asked.

“Oh, I know Sugden very well. Real creep, that one. Thinks he’s God’s gift. I mean, have you seen the state of him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Uglier than a warthog in drag, he is. Just because he’s got a bit of money, he thinks he’s hot property. He took a fancy to poor Milly a while back.”

“Did he now?” Killian said.

“He wouldn’t leave her alone. He’d come calling day and night. Milly wasn’t interested, but men like Sugden don’t seem to get the hint.”

“Men like Sugden?” Taylor repeated.

“Perverts, for want of a better word. I can tell you it was borderline stalking. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Why are you so interested in Peter Sugden?”

“He claims he spoke to Milly the evening she disappeared,” Killian said, “and he said he saw her drive off in the direction of Merryhead.”

“And you believe him?”

“Why would he lie?” Taylor asked her.

“Milly never mentioned anything to me about going up to Merryhead. And Milly told me everything. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. We have to be going. We have a lot to get through today.”

“It was lovely to see you again,” Alice said to Taylor. “And it was nice to meet you, Detective Inspector.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“What did you make of that?” Taylor asked Killian as they drove back to Trotterdown.

“Somebody’s lying to us,” Killian said, “and I don’t think it’s the beekeeper. Peter Sugden said he hardly knew Milly Lancaster, but Alice Green told us a different story.”

“Aren’t we going to speak with Sugden again? There’s something odd about him. Why phone in with information and then lie to us?” Taylor said.

“You know what it’s like. People have all sorts of reasons for being cagey with the police. But yes, I’ve got my eye on Mr Sugden. He’s hiding something. I can feel it,” Killian replied.

“Why don’t we go back?”

“Not yet. At this moment, Sugden believes he’s done his civic duty and that’s the end of it. I’m going to give it a few hours and wait until the pub opens. Then I’ll send one of the Whites to check out Sugden’s story. Did he really go to the pub that night or was he up on Merryhead too?”

A suspect at last, thought Taylor. Finally they were getting somewhere. They drove in silence the rest of the way to Trotterdown, where the newspaper reporters were still waiting round.

“DC Taylor!” A woman approached them. “Do you have any more information for us?”

Taylor wondered how she knew her name.

“DC Taylor?”

“No comment.” Taylor pushed past her and followed Killian into the station, then to the canteen. DS Duncan was sitting at the same table with PC Eric White.

“Where’ve you been hiding?” Killian asked Duncan.

“Flu.” Duncan sniffed. “I should be in bed.”

“Flu in summer?” Taylor sat down next to Killian.

“Since most of us are here,” Killian said, “we can go through what we have so far. Eric, I’ve got a job for you.”

He filled Eric and Duncan in on the Sugden interview. “Do you think he killed Milly Lancaster?” White asked.

“We don’t know yet. That’s why I need you to check out his story. Sugden claims he spoke to Mrs Lancaster on Friday evening. He watched her drive off and then went inside the pub. It’s the Old Boar in Polgarrow. They should be opening soon. I want you to find out if Sugden’s story checks out. If it does, we’re right back to square one.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Duncan said.

“Then we’ll bring Sugden in. Apparently, he had a bit of a thing for Milly Lancaster a while ago.”

“That’s no reason to kill her.” Duncan took out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

“Stranger things have happened. Maybe she spurned his advances and he got angry.”

“I don’t know,” said Taylor, “something doesn’t seem right. Sugden might be a bit weird, but I can’t imagine him killing anybody.”

“Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing,” Eric suggested. “A crime of passion.”

“Rubbish,” Duncan said. “There’s no such thing.”

“For once I’m inclined to agree with DS Duncan,” said Killian. “The evidence we have so far suggests this was planned. The doors in the car were jammed closed. You don’t do that on the spur of the moment.”

“So you’re saying someone planned it beforehand and just waited for the right moment?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know, but Sugden’s all we have at the moment. We’ll see if his story checks out and take it from there.”

Duncan sneezed so hard that his knee shot up and hit the bottom of the table. “Go home,” Killian told him. “You’re no good to anybody in this state.”

PC Thomas White came in and took Duncan’s place, looking exhausted. “We’ve had over two hundred phone calls this morning.”

“And?” Killian said.

“I’ve devised a system. A kind of sliding scale. The obvious time-wasters are at the bottom, followed by the probable attention-seekers. Then there are the maybes and the ones to definitely follow up are at the top. So far we have three people who might be able to help us.”

“Only three?” Taylor asked. “Who are they?”

“There’s Peter Sugden to start with.”

“We’re onto him already,” Killian said. “Who are the other two?”

“A woman walking her dog thinks she saw a car like Milly Lancaster’s up near Merryhead on Friday evening, and a hiker also claims to have seen the car up there. He walked straight past it and he thinks there were two people inside.”

“Good. That’s a start. Taylor, you can talk to the hiker and I’ll leave it up to the Whites to decide between the dog walker and Peter Sugden.”

“I’ll take the pub in Polgarrow,” Eric said.

“Let’s get onto it, then. I’m going to keep our friends in the press up-to-date on what’s going on.”

“Why are you so friendly with them?” Taylor asked him.

“They’re a necessary evil,” Killian told her, “and whether we like it or not, they’re not going anywhere.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Taylor parked outside the youth hostel in Trotterdown. She had never seen the attraction of youth hostels — sweaty student types cramped into tiny dormitories, swapping identical stories of “unique” travel experiences and thinking the world was theirs for the taking. She opened the door and approached the reception area. A young woman with blonde dreadlocks was staring at a computer screen behind the desk. She had piercings in her nose, ears and top lip.

“Morning,” the girl said. She had an Australian accent. “Welcome to the Trotterdown Backpackers.”

“I’m looking for Michael Newton. I believe he’s staying here. Do you know where I can find him?” Taylor took out her ID and showed it to the woman.

“Mike? What’s he done?”

“He phoned in with some information. I just need to ask him a few questions.”

“Is this about the old woman?”

“Do you know where I can find him?” Taylor asked as politely as she could manage.

“He’ll be in the courtyard. He sits there most of the day reading. It’s out there.” The woman pointed to a door to the right of the reception area.