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new church and looked down towards the old, where a police car blocked the way, ‘is to wonder why she immediately assumed he was murdered and called the police, rather than assume it was an accident and call an ambulance. Then I wondered whether it’s significant that it was Miranda who found the body.’

‘Probably not.’ Doddsy unclipped his seatbelt as Jude parked the car in the car park at the bottom of the fell. ‘There’s a limited selection of people who live down here, and it’s only a few hundred yards from her front gate.’

‘A walker might have stumbled on it, but you’re right. They tend to take the shore road, or go up the fell.’

‘Old George would have seen it.’ Doddsy looked at George’s empty cottage. ‘He saw everything. It’s a shame he’s gone.’

‘Ashleigh thinks there’s something odd about that, too.’

Normally Doddsy respected Ashleigh’s instinct, but this seemed to stretch his credulity too far. He shook his head and said nothing.

They descended the slope. The first car on the scene contained a police constable and a PCSO, one of whom was taping off the scene and the other taking photographs. The first of the locals, alerted by the blue flashing lights, was striding up from the farm to see what was going on. A quick scan of the tarmac told Jude there was unlikely to be much gained from a search of it. It was the quickest and most sensible way to approach the scene and he was keen — more than keen — for a word with Miranda.

‘Where’s Mrs Neilson?’ he asked the PCSO.

‘She went back to the house. We took a statement from her.’

Jude cursed, inwardly. Waterside Lodge was on the other side of the bridge, which carried the road over the beck and so controlled the only vehicular route in and out of the dale. Now it was a crime scene and no-one, not even he, could cross it until it had been released. He walked back down the road and looked over the scene from a secure distance. The body lay with the head downstream, and there was no sign of damage on the banks. He turned and looked upstream. Even from a distance, trampled vegetation and a boot-mark in the mud told a tale. However Luke Helmsley had been killed, his body had been neatly tipped down the bank and thrust under the bridge.

‘No way that’s a fall,’ Doddsy said to him.

’No way at all.’ Jude straightened up and looked back up the road. The next in what would be a lot of police cars was on its way. ‘I’m going to leave you in charge here. I’m going to talk to Miranda.’

‘Right. So I’m the one who has to explain to the parents they can’t get their kids from school and the walkers they’ll have a three-mile detour to get to their cars.’

‘Don’t say I never give you the glamour jobs. Tell them we’re doing our best to speed things up.’ Jude grinned at him. Tammy would appreciate the need to get the scene released as soon as possible. ‘And you’re good at controlling chaos.’

Leaving Doddsy in charge, he doubled back and cut off along the footpath along the base of Hallin Fell. As he walked he cast a long glance back towards the bridge. There was a smattering of cottages around it, almost all of them holiday cottages. Someone might have seen something, but the lack of civilian activity around suggested not. And George’s cottage, the one place where, just a week before, he could have almost guaranteed he’d have a witness, stood empty.

Waterside Lodge was quiet when he strode up the drive, but there was a sudden, swift movement behind the kitchen window as he approached and Miranda appeared on the step, her finger raised to her lips. ‘Are you the police? I knew you’d come. But can we be discreet? I haven’t said anything to Ollie and Will, yet.’ She offered him her hand.

‘Jude Satterthwaite. DCI.’ Her fingers were cold, even in the balmy May sun.

Letting go, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘This is so awful. Is it murder?’

‘We won’t know until we get the post-mortem results.’ It could hardly be anything else, but there were times when it was convenient to hide behind the shields of evidence, fact and confirmation.

‘Seriously, Chief Inspector.’ Miranda looked at him with scorn. ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’

One look told him that wasn’t the case, even if he hadn’t taken the trouble to read up about her as background to Summer’s death. ‘Shall we go inside? I’d like to ask you a little about how you came to find the body.’

Miranda, he was sure, had intended to keep him on the doorstep, but she shrugged and led the way into the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry. My manners deserted me. I’ve already told your call handler and given a statement to the police constable over there. It isn’t difficult. I was coming out for a walk and I stopped to look over the bridge. And I saw…’ her lip quivered a little. ‘Well. You’ve seen it, no doubt. And I called 999.’

‘Okay.’ He’d get the details from the PC, or from Doddsy, on his way back. ‘Then let me ask you something. Did you try and get him out of the water?’

‘No. Why would I? I mean, you aren’t meant to touch a body, are you?’

‘No. You aren’t. But I wondered what made you think he was dead.’

‘Oh.’ Doubt ran through that single syllable. ‘Do you mean he might not have been? But he must be.’

‘It certainly looks like it now. But I wondered why you thought he was at the time.’

‘But he just…he just looked dead. His face was in the water. Jesus.’ She put her hands to her mouth, and subsided gently onto one of the kitchen chairs. ‘I never thought. Poor Luke.’

‘And what made you sure it was Luke Helmsley?’ He tried to be gentle with her, not

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