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‘Don’t get carried away,’ David said dourly. ‘That was probably because they’d left Kirkmay House well before the event.’

‘But they might have overheard a row, or noticed the time Charles left that morning. Did you get their address?’ Stuart asked.

David nodded.

‘Then will you phone them and have a chat with them this evening? It’s a long shot, I doubt they’ll even remember anything after all this time, but it’s worth a try.’

Stuart and David went for lunch at a café on the harbour that had the reputation for making the finest fish and chips in Scotland, and they chatted more about Belle and Charles.

The sun came out about three and Stuart walked with David to where his car was parked, and after saying he’d see him later that evening back in the flat in Edinburgh, Stuart went and sat on a bench on the harbour to wait for Gloria.

He had a great deal to think about, and while Charles had jumped to first place as prime suspect, Stuart was very aware that he needed time to assimilate all the various bits of information he’d gathered, and to analyse it carefully.

The sun had brought out a rash of people, and he idly watched them as they bought ice cream, shed their cardigans and jackets, and wandered aimlessly along the harbour. He wondered how many of them were already discussing how they would love to come and live here. The thought made him smile, for if they knew what it was like in winter with the raw east wind blowing in from the sea and almost cutting you in half, they would probably forget their plan.

Jackie had been different. She’d fallen in love with Fife on her first visit and that had been a bitterly cold, grey day as he remembered. She always said she found the wind bracing, that it blew all the debris she collected up in London out of her head. She loved the lack of sophistication in the fishing towns, she said people’s lives here were meaningful and honest. But what was it that made Belle and Charles move up here? They certainly weren’t the kind to embrace Jackie’s views. And he didn’t believe Belle’s explanation to David that it was because property was so much cheaper. Who would take themselves off some four hundred miles to live in a bigger house that none of their old friends would ever see?

He didn’t believe either that they’d fallen into the trap of imagining that running a guest house was a little gold mine, as so many people had. They just weren’t that naive. Perhaps Roger was right when he said Charles was in trouble in London.

He needed to get at the truth about why they came here, and even more importantly why they stayed when they so clearly didn’t like it. But how? Would Lena know?

Somehow he didn’t think she’d tell him even if she did know. She’d lost one daughter and she wasn’t likely to dish any dirt about the other one.

∗

‘Hello, Stuart.’

The greeting startled him and he turned to see Gloria standing behind his bench. ‘I’ve brought someone to meet you,’ she said, looking a little anxious and turning towards a man of about sixty just behind her. ‘This is Ted Baxter, a friend of Jackie’s. He’s a wee bit reluctant, so please be gentle with him.’

Stuart leapt up, guessing that the man must have been one of Jackie’s lovers, even if he was rather old. ‘Stuart Macgregor,’ he said, holding out his hand to the man. ‘I do hope Gloria hasn’t implied that I’m some kind of bloodhound. It’s good to meet you.’

Baxter’s handshake was firm and his smile was warm. ‘Jackie told me about you years ago,’ he said. ‘She said you were the best joiner she ever had, and that you were a man who could be trusted.’

Stuart was touched and flattered by the man’s statement, but the sound of his voice struck an immediate cord. It was a very deep voice, practically a growl, and his heart leapt because he was sure this was the man Jackie called ‘Growler’.

He wore a well-worn tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows, and cheap twill trousers, and he was greying and thin on top, slender and only about five feet eight. It seemed inconceivable that Jackie would have had a fling with anyone