‘Gullick has a blue Ford Transit van. He’s a market trader, so that makes sense.’

‘And Naylor?’ asked Cooper.

‘A Toyota Hilux pickup.’

‘A pickup? What colour?’

‘White.’

‘Of course it is.’

For a moment, Cooper forgot his bruises. Were things starting to come together at last? If so, it would be worth it.

‘Did we know that Maurice Wharton was an ex-copper?’ he asked.

Irvine nodded. ‘Yes, it’s in the files.’

‘It’s not unusual to find a retired police officer running a pub, is it?’ said Villiers.

‘He wasn’t retired. He got kicked out. Gross misconduct.’

‘Was he bent?’

‘No. He put the boot into a suspect once too often. You wouldn’t have heard about him because he wasn’t serving in this region. He was down in London, in the Met. He was rooted out of the Territorial Support Group in one of the Met’s regular clean-ups.’

‘It’s hard to imagine.’

‘He went to seed a bit after they dumped him,’ said Murfin.

‘You can say that again.’

‘He’s a big guy, though. At one time, when he was younger and kept himself fit, he would have been pretty intimidating.’

Diane Fry entered the CID room, came to a halt in front of Cooper and tilted her head on one side to examine his bruises.

‘I suppose you’re going to ask what happened,’ said Cooper.

‘No, I heard.’

He wondered for a moment who would have rushed off to spread gossip to Diane Fry. She wasn’t usually the sort to be whispering in a huddle over the coffee machine. But then he remembered her ability to enter a room unobtrusively, a trick that must allow her to overhear all kinds of things.

‘I gather there’s even a suggestion that it was some members of the local farming community who were responsible,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know there was a provisional wing of the National Farmers Union.’

Cooper gave her a curt nod. It seemed the only suitable acknowledgement to the closest that Diane Fry had ever come to making a joke.

‘Someone else’s blood on David Pearson’s anorak,’ he said. ‘So what happened, do we think?’

‘The Pearsons did something bad, and realised they had to disappear?’ suggested Irvine.

‘They attacked or killed someone? But who?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? Apart from the timing being so far out, you’d think it might have been Aidan Merritt.’

Fry snorted. ‘Oh yes. Out by around two and a half years, that’s all.’

‘It would be convenient, though. We’d solve two mysteries at one go.’

‘Have we got any other theories, aside from these fantasies?’

Everyone was silent, until Hurst chimed in. ‘We’ll just have to hope for a DNA match from the blood.’

‘Is that the best we can do?’

No one answered, and Fry sighed.

‘It looks as though it is.’

‘Otherwise, we’re going to ask all the same questions that were asked before?’

‘Yes, and as many more as we can think of,’ said Fry.

‘Why?’

‘If you ask enough questions, the person who’s lying will eventually change their story. Anyone who’s telling the truth can’t do that.’

‘A small bunch of regulars were looked at closely by the original inquiry team. Vince Naylor, Ian Gullick.’

‘Their stories tallied.’

‘Everyone’s stories tallied. At least anyone who was sober enough to remember what happened.’

‘You left a name off the list,’ said Hurst.

‘I know. Aidan Merritt. It’s too late to ask him any more questions.’

‘It had to be someone local.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, who else was in the immediate area apart from locals?’

‘Nobody that we know of, apart from the party of four tourists we can’t identify.’

‘What about guests staying at the Light House?’

‘They’d already stopped taking bookings before Christmas, remember? There was no one staying at the Light House.’

‘No one?’

‘Well, no one who wasn’t local. No one except the Whartons themselves.’

‘Is that right?’ Cooper turned suddenly to Murfin, who stopped chewing whatever it was he’d surreptitiously sneaked into his mouth. ‘Gavin, when you finally got to the Light House that day, it must have been a few hours after the Pearsons had been reported missing?’

‘Of course.’

‘Who was there?’

‘At the Light House? Just the Whartons, and a couple of regulars.’

‘Which regulars?’

‘Ian Gullick, Vince Naylor. They were always there. Practically lived in the place. They spent every hour they could in the games room.’

‘It was the day before Christmas, though.’

‘So?’

‘Hasn’t everyone been telling us that the Light House was always closed over Christmas? If the pub was shut, what were Naylor and Gullick doing there?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You didn’t ask?’

‘Ben, we were in the middle of a major search operation, not to mention the effects of a snowstorm. It never occurred to me to ask them what they were doing there. I suppose I just thought they were helping to clear the snow or something.’

‘How had they come? In a four-wheel drive, or what?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t remember seeing anything. When I think about it, I don’t think even a four-wheel drive would have made it to the pub in those conditions. Our vehicles couldn’t. We had to walk.’

‘Yes,’ said Cooper, picturing the depth of snow covering the access to the Light House from the road. ‘There’s only one way anyone could have got up there. It would have needed a farmer with a tractor.’

‘I’m amazed this wasn’t followed up at the time,’ said Fry. ‘Here are two individuals who might have had a grudge against the Pearsons. They were witnessed having an argument with them forty-eight hours previously, and they were on the scene not long after David and Trisha disappeared. What was the SIO thinking of?’

‘There were multiple witness statements taken from customers and staff who were at the Light House on the night after the argument,’ said Cooper. ‘Gullick and Naylor had no contact with the Pearsons that night. Maurice Wharton said he would never have let the two of them back into the pub if they hadn’t promised to behave themselves and stay away from the Pearsons. And by all accounts they did behave themselves. Apart from the angry words spoken the previous night, there was no suspicion against Naylor or Gullick, or any of their friends.’

‘We need to ask them some more questions.’

‘Of course. That’s what we’re here for.’

‘One more thing,’ said Fry. ‘Samantha Merritt gave us the names of some teachers she said her husband used to have a drink with sometimes after school. We talked to those teachers. And guess what? They said that a group of them often used to go for a drink, but that Aidan Merritt hardly ever joined them. They couldn’t explain why he would say that.’

‘And what do you think, Diane?’

She shrugged. ‘The usual reason would be an affair, wouldn’t it? You know, I’m going to be a bit late, dear – I’m just going for a drink with a few people from school.’

‘The usual reason,’ said Cooper. ‘But … Aidan Merritt?’

‘Why not Aidan Merritt?’

‘I don’t know. He just doesn’t seem the type.’

‘You never knew him. Or wait – did you? Maybe you had a private chat with him at the Light House some time? During the Young Farmers’ soiree maybe? A drunken get-together over a pint of Old Moorland, was it?’

‘No,’ said Cooper calmly. ‘I’ve just talked to a few people about him. That’s what we do. We get an idea of what sort of person the victim was.’

‘You don’t need to to tell me how to do my job.’

‘I’m not trying to, but—’

‘So can you think of another reason why Merritt would consistently lie to his wife about what he was doing after work?’

‘Well, no.’

‘Okay. Then perhaps we could explore the possibility that he was having an affair.’

‘Fine.’

‘That wasn’t too difficult in the end, was it?’

Cooper watched her leave. He wondered if Fry actually thought she’d won him over, convinced him with the force of her argument and brought him on to her side. Well, she might want to believe that. But all she’d done was convince him that he’d have to find a new approach to the problem.