‘Ah, Ramsay,’ the superintendent said. ‘ Thank you for getting here so quickly. Any connection, do you think, with the Paston murder?’
‘Almost certainly,’ Ramsay said. ‘Mrs Wood was at the Grace Darling Centre on Monday evening, when Gabriella Paston’s body was discovered.’
‘You think she witnessed something?’ Ramsay was aware of a sharp intelligence.
‘It’s possible,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately she’d left the Centre before the girl was found and we couldn’t get hold of her yesterday to take a statement.’
‘Yes,’ the superintendent said quietly. ‘I see. That was unfortunate.’ He said nothing else. He was not the sort of man to be critical in front of outsiders.
‘Have you discovered any other connection between Mrs Wood and the Paston girl?’
‘None at all at this stage.’
‘But it seems sensible to you to consider both murders as part of the same investigation?’
‘Definitely. Unless we come across any evidence to the contrary.’
‘Well then,’ the man said, briskly indicating, as he intended, his confidence in Ramsay. ‘I’ll leave you in charge. Report back to me later today. We’ll need details at some stage for a press conference.’
‘Of course,’ Ramsay said, wishing that his boss in Otterbridge was half as sensitive. He watched as the superintendent, slightly stooped, more like a scholar than a policeman, walked back towards the Woods’ house.
‘What have you got for me, then?’ he asked the pathologist.
‘Hey, man. Give me a chance. What do you want? Miracles?’
‘Cause of death would do for a start.’
‘She was strangled,’ the pathologist said. ‘Not with a rope or wire. Something thicker. A scarf maybe.’
‘Time of death?’
‘Hard to tell at this stage. Got to allow for the cold. It’s bloody freezing. Yesterday evening probably.’
‘Can’t you be more specific?’
‘Not yet.’ He stood up and grinned. ‘Find out when she last ate and I might be able to help you later today.’
On his way back to the Woods’ house, at the garden gate, Ramsay met Hunter. The sergeant was defensive.
‘I tried to get hold of her,’ he said. ‘I found out she was at court all day, but when I phoned there she’d already left. The usher chased after her and gave her the message to get in touch. I phoned him back to check that he’d got hold of her and he said she was going straight home. She hadn’t contacted the station when I left so I called here on the way to Otterbridge. There was no reply. I can’t see that I could have done any more.’
‘No,’ Ramsay said. There was nothing more that Hunter could have done. ‘What time were you here?’
‘About nine, I suppose. We left together, didn’t we?’
‘You didn’t see anything unusual?’
‘No. There was a light on at the back of the house but I thought it might be a normal security measure to leave a light on when the family was out.’
‘Yes,’ Ramsay said. ‘I see.’
‘What do you want me to do now?’ Hunter asked.
‘Keep people off the hill and out of the dene until we’ve done a search. I suppose you can organize that.’
He walked back to the house thinking he had been unfair to Hunter, too abrupt. In the kitchen he found the jogger, still staring out of the window, still clutching a mug of tea which was obviously cold. When he saw Ramsay he turned with a start.
‘Can I go now?’ he said. ‘ I’ve classes to take this morning. It won’t be easy for them to cover for me.’
‘Just a few questions,’ Ramsay said. ‘What made you come to this house? Did you recognize her?’
‘No. I didn’t even stop to look at her closely. When I touched her hand it was freezing. She was obviously dead. This was the closest place.’
‘You came in through the back gate?’
The man nodded.
‘Was it open?’
‘Yes. Slightly open. I was surprised. You expect people in houses like this to worry about security.’
‘Was there a light on in the kitchen?’
‘No, the house was quite dark.’
When Ramsay had begun talking to the teacher, Wood had made his excuses and left the kitchen. Ramsay found him in a cold living room, slumped in a chair, his eyes shut, his face grey.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ Ramsay said. ‘But I do have to ask some questions.’
Wood sat up and hunched forward, his elbows on his knees.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘ of course.’
‘What time did you get home last night?’
‘I’m not sure exactly. About midnight.’ He looked apologetically at Ramsay. ‘I’m afraid I’d had a skinful.’
‘But you must have noticed that Mrs Wood wasn’t here.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course I’d noticed. But it wasn’t unusual. We lived very independent lives. I thought she was out at some council function or charity do.’
‘Yes,’ Ramsay said. ‘I see.’ Evan Powell would never have understood that sort of marriage but it made sense to him. He had never known where Diana was.
‘She had been home,’ he said, ‘after finishing at court?’
‘Was she at court yesterday?’ Wood was faintly curious, unsurprised. ‘Yes, she had been home. I realize that now. Her car’s in the garage.’
‘Were there any lights on in the house when you got home?’
Wood hunched further forward, concentrating.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The kitchen light. I turned it off before I went to bed. I suppose it should have struck me as odd, but I was in no state to think clearly about anything.’
‘You can’t remember what plans your wife might have had for the evening?’
‘No,’ Wood said. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Was there any reason for her leaving the house on foot?’
Wood sat up and shook his head slowly as if he had been a fool. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course. The dog.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ramsay said.
‘Whichever of us was first home in the evening let the dog out for a run on the hill. Amelia was more thorough about it than me. She actually took him for a walk. I’m afraid I just let him out on to the common and called him back five minutes later. After that we’d lock the back gate for the night. The dog was still outside this morning. He must have found his own way home.’
‘I see. Would your wife take the dog out as soon as she got home from court?’
‘No. She’d shower first. She always said the courtroom stank. Change into something more comfortable, a cup of tea, then take the dog for a run.’
‘So how long would all that take?’
‘I don’t know. Three-quarters of an hour, perhaps.’
‘Thank you,’ Ramsay said. ‘We should be able to estimate the time of death very precisely with that information.’
‘So you think she was killed then? When she took the dog out on to the hill?’
‘Probably,’ Ramsay said. He was lost in thought. ‘ I think so. Yes.’
They sat in silence.
‘Was he some sort of madman, then?’ Wood demanded at last. ‘First that girl at the Grace Darling Centre, then Amelia. What would they call him in America? A serial killer. Was he one of those?’
Ramsay gave the proposition serious consideration. ‘No,’ he said eventually. ‘Really, I don’t think so. The murders weren’t random. It can hardly be a coincidence that Mrs Wood was at a meeting at the Grace Darling on the night that Gabriella’s body was found there.’