Yellich and Louise D’Acre departed the scene separately, Hennessey remained at the scene to supervise the removal of the corpse. The corpse of Amanda Williams was last to be lifted from the shallow grave. As it was lifted clear, something shiny caught Hennessey’s eye, it was on the bottom of the hole, having been covered by Amanda Williams’s corpse. He knelt down and picked it up. It was a black ballpoint pen with a gold clip. One side was embossed with the words ‘Sheringham’s Gym—York’.

The Alert status was ‘Bikini Red’ when Yellich arrived at HMS Halley, so that on this occasion neither he nor his vehicle were allowed on the base. Lieutenant Williams, they said, would come to him.

Hennessey and two constables drove to the Williamses’ bungalow in Old Pond Road, Bramley on Ouse. He noted that the drive between the shallow grave and the bungalow took just ten minutes. Leaving one of the constables at the entrance to the driveway, Hennessey and the second constable walked up the driveway and entered the garage. Hennessey fumbled for the key in the place it was usually kept.

It wasn’t there.

He felt along the shelf. No key to be found. It had been removed. Displaced, at least. Followed by the constable, he walked round to the rear of the bungalow and peered into the back bedrooms. Then into the living room, then the dining room.

Disarray.

It was the only word he could think of to describe the state of the interior of the once neat and just-so Williamses’ bungalow. Ransacked, he then thought, might be another word. He turned to the constable. ‘Check the door, will you, please.’

The constable did so. ‘Unlocked, sir,’ he said. He was, thought Hennessey, about nineteen, about the same age as the young lad with a machine pistol who had greeted him and Yellich when they had visited HMS Halley the previous afternoon.

Hennessey and the constable entered the bungalow cautiously.

It appeared to him that everything had been disturbed.

Yet there was a pattern to the chaos. He said so.

‘This is not a burglary.’

‘No, sir?’

‘No, sir. Tell me why it’s not a burglary?’

‘It looks like a burglary to me, sir. I’ve seen houses in this sort of mess that have been burgled. Stuff flung everywhere…’

‘Yes, I’m sure you have, but this is not a burglary.’

‘I’d say it was, sir.’

‘Then you’d be wrong.’

‘I would, sir?’

‘You would. You’d be wrong because items of value remain. That clock, for example. Go into the main bedroom at the front of the bungalow, tell me if a pile of cash is still on the dresser.’

The constable did so, returned and said, ‘It’s still there, sir.’

‘You see, that cash and the clock and other items wouldn’t have remained if this was a burglary. If this was mindless vandalism then there would be damage and the spraying of much paint. You’ve seen that sort of mess?’

‘I have, sir.’

‘What this is. Constable, is a ransacking. The person or persons who did this were looking for something. And it was done by the person or persons who knew where the Williamses kept their back door key hidden.’ Hennessey took his mobile phone from his jacket pocket, switched it on and pressed a ten-figure number. The constable standing close to Hennessey heard the full, high-pitched, crackly exchange.

‘Yellich.’

‘Hennessey. Where are you?’

‘Outside the naval base. They’re fetching Lieutenant Williams for me.’

‘Right. Listen. When you’ve done the identification, take him to Micklegate Bar and put him in an interview room.’

‘Why, sir? He’s not a suspect, is he?’

‘No, he’s not, but someone has ransacked his parents’ house, as if looking for something. He might know who’d want to do that, or what they were looking for.’

‘Very good, sir. Do you want me to tell him that as soon as I can?’

‘Why not? Give him a chance to think. How long do you think you’ll be?’

‘Can’t really…hang on, this looks like him now, Land Rover’s approaching the gate at a rate of knots, officer in the front passenger seat…yes, this is Williams now.’

‘Right. I’ll see you back at Micklegate Bar.’ Hennessey switched off the mobile phone. ‘Right, lad.’

‘Sir?’

‘Someone looked for something. That means one of two things.’

‘He or she or they found it or they didn’t?’

‘Good. What do we do first?’

‘Look for it ourselves, sir?’

‘No. This is now a crime scene. If it wasn’t before, it now is. We need Scene of Crimes down here, get this photographed and dusted for prints. Then we’ll talk to the neighbours, see if they saw anything.’ He took his mobile phone from his pocket and dialled Micklegate Bar Police Station. ‘You go and join your mate at the bottom of the drive.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘No one enters the property unless it’s the police.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Yellich drove at a steady pace from HMS Halley to the York District Hospital on Wiggington Road. Initially the two men sat in silence, but as soon as they had cleared Knaresborough and were once again driving through open country, Yellich said, ‘I’m afraid that I have to tell you, sir, that we have every reason to believe that you’ll be making a positive identification.’

‘You believe so?’

‘Yes, sir. I’m very sorry. We found a wallet on the person of the deceased male. It had your father’s name and address.’

‘Oh…’

The man seemed distant, hardly surprising, thought Yellich…in any man’s language, this is a milestone in his life. Then Williams said. ‘The little cretin.’

‘Sir?’ Yellich turned to Williams and saw then that the man wasn’t in a state of shock at all, his silence was caused by his being in a state of anger, jaw set hard as if burning up with resentment.

‘I said, the little cretin.’

‘Who, sir, not your father surely?’

‘No…not my father…I’m sorry for him…I want to help you as much as I can…but I meant that bloody able seaman. You might have seen him on the platform outside the provost marshal’s office.’

‘We did, sir.’

‘He went absent without leave. Went home because his mother was ill. Commander fined him three days’ pay. Me, I would have strung the cretin up from the yardarm. I mean, what would happen to the Queen’s Navy if we all went home every time mummy sneezed? Tell me that.’

‘Yes, sir. Did you hear what I said about the likelihood of you making a positive ID in a few minutes’ time?’

‘Yes. I heard. You found my father’s wallet.’

‘You don’t seem to be bothered.’

‘Why should I be? What’s done is done. It’s the living that matter. And naval discipline…that cretin went away chuckling with his mates…I’ll get him for something. Don’t you worry about that. No one gets the better of me.’

Yellich stared at the road ahead of him. ‘We don’t believe that money was the motive for your parents’ murder…there was cash in the house, and your father’s watch…if it is your father…his watch was on his wrist…it’s a Cartier.’

‘I know.’

‘And, like I said, his wallet was in his jacket pocket, had a bit of money in it, plus his credit cards…’

‘So what was the motivation?’

‘That’s what we were hoping you’d help us with.’ Yellich was pleased that Williams was now focusing on the murder, rather than a hapless young able seaman. He feared for the welfare of any young serviceman whose officer had ‘got it in for him’. ‘You see, there’s something else I have to tell you, sir, and that is that your parents’ house has been ransacked.’

‘Ransacked! The village lads have got in.’

‘No…someone let themselves in, and appeared to be searching for something.’

‘Really? What?’

‘Well, that’s the question I was going to ask you, sir. Do you know who would want what from your parents’ house?’

‘I don’t really.’

‘We found a ballpoint pen where the deceased were buried, had “Sheringham’s Gym” embossed on it.’

‘My mother went to the gym to work out. She wanted to keep her figure as long as she could. The gym gave the pens out as freebies some time ago, promotional gimmicks. My mother used the pen, but only in the home…wouldn’t be seen dead…sorry…didn’t want to be seen writing cheques with it, but in the home was acceptable in her eyes.’