Taylor hated journalists. After Danny’s accident in Edinburgh, they had hounded her day and night. One had even shown up at the funeral, complete with photographer. She despised the lot of them.

“Morning,” Hargreaves said. He looked harassed. “The DI wants everybody in for a meeting at nine thirty.”

“Is this about the car that went over the cliff?” asked a woman with a microphone. “Do we know if there was anybody in the car when it went over the edge?”

“Yes,” Taylor said without thinking, “we do happen to know whether or not there was someone in the car at the time.” She walked past them down the corridor. Hargreaves sniggered.

DI Killian was poring over some notes in the small meeting room. “There’s a pack of wolves at the front desk,” Taylor told him. “It doesn’t take that lot long to sniff out a story.”

“I’m afraid this is just the beginning. What happened up on Merryhead is going to be big news. You should know by now that nothing much usually happens around here.”

“Can’t we just kick them out?”

“I’m afraid not. In this day and age it’s a case of quid pro quo. They can actually prove to be very useful.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Press coverage helps us reach people we couldn’t otherwise. Have you seen Duncan?”

“His car wasn’t in the car park.”

“He’s probably hungover. You’re not a drinker, are you?”

“Not much. I’m usually on the tonic water or ginger beer.”

The door opened and PC Eric White and PC Thomas White walked in. They looked alike and shared the same surname, so everybody assumed incorrectly that they were related. “We can’t wait all day for Duncan,” Killian said. “We’ve got a lot to go through today. Taylor, you can start at the beginning for the benefit of the Whites.”

“Milly Lancaster was reported missing on Saturday,” Taylor started. “The PC who took the call didn’t feel there was anything to be concerned about. Milly’s friend Alice Green phoned in again yesterday. I took the call myself. DS Duncan and I went to take a statement and have a look around Milly’s house. There was no sign of a disturbance and the only thing missing was Milly’s car. As we all know, the car was found yesterday at the bottom of Merryhead,”

“Right.” Killian glanced at his notes. “I have the initial forensics report right here. The brakes were off and the locks on the doors had been tampered with. They were jammed shut. The engine wasn’t on when the car went over the edge.”

“So someone pushed the car over the edge with Mrs Lancaster inside?” Thomas White said.

“It appears so, yes. There was blood on the shattered windscreen as well as strands of hair. We now have some hair samples from Mrs Lancaster’s house and they’re being analysed as we speak.”

“If she was inside the car, what happened to her body?” Eric White asked.

“She was probably washed out to sea,” Taylor suggested.

“Which may mean we’ll never find her body,” Killian pointed out. “The tide would have taken her right out.” His phone started to ring in his pocket.

“Killian,” he answered it. “Thank you.” He put it back and frowned. “That settles it, then. The blood found on the windscreen belongs to Milly Lancaster. She was definitely in the car when it went over the edge of the cliff.” He scratched at a scab on his nose.

“The missing person case is now a murder investigation,” he added. “White and White, I want you to start gathering information about Milly Lancaster. We need to speak to everybody who might have spoken to her before she ended up on the rocks. We have to piece together her movements before the car was pushed over the cliff.”

“Alice Green last saw her on Friday evening at around seven,” Taylor said.

“Then we’ll start there. You can speak to Mrs Green yourself. I’m going to liaise with our friends from the press. I want Milly Lancaster’s photograph out on all media by tomorrow morning. Somebody must have seen something. An old lady doesn’t just end up at the bottom of a cliff without somebody knowing something about it.”

CHAPTER TEN

DC Taylor’s heart was beating faster than normal as she drove to Polgarrow. Murder, she thought. Finally, something to sink my teeth into. Dreadful, of course, but also something she could get really involved in. Since she had transferred to Trotterdown, nothing she had worked on had sparked much interest. The odd housebreaking and a less than suspicious death of a ninety-year-old man had been the highlight of her time in the south-west so far. But now she had a murder to investigate.

Taylor parked outside Alice Green’s house and stopped the engine. Alice opened the door before Taylor had even reached the path leading up to the house. “I knew you’d come,” she said, smiling. “I’ll put the kettle on. The bees have been busy too, so we can have fresh honey. I hope it’s all right this time.”

She seemed quite cheerful. Taylor felt slightly sick: how was she going to tell this nice old lady that her best friend had been pushed over a cliff in her car? She followed Alice through to the kitchen, where the jackdaw was preening the feathers of its broken wing in the cage by the window.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Taylor came straight to the point.

“Milly’s dead, isn’t she?” Alice put two tea cups on a tray along with some slices of bread and honey.

“I’m afraid so. It’s been confirmed. She was inside the car when it went over the cliff. It looks like her body was washed out to sea.”

“Oh my.” Alice’s face went pale. Taylor was afraid she was going to faint.

“I’m all right.” Alice poured some hot water into a teapot, but her hands were shaking.

“Let me help you with that.” Taylor took the tray from her. “I know this is hard, but I have to ask you a few more questions.”

“Of course.”

“You said you last saw Milly on Friday evening?”

“That’s right. Milly helped me to pack the honey and she left around seven. She had to finish off some baking.”

“And she seemed fine to you? There wasn’t anything bothering her?”

“She was getting over a cold. That’s all I can think of.”

“And she didn’t mention that something was troubling her?”

“No, and she would have. Milly tells me everything.” Alice poured two cups of tea. Her hands had stopped shaking.

“Why are you asking me all this again?” she said. “You’re not thinking she did herself in, are you?”

“No, there’s no doubt about that. The car was helped over the edge.”

“Somebody pushed her over a cliff?” Alice seemed shocked. “Who on earth would do such a terrible thing?”

“We don’t know yet.” Taylor took a sip of tea. “But we’ll get to the bottom of all this, I promise.”

They sat in silence for a while. The only sound in the kitchen came from the jackdaw’s cage. It was frantically pecking one of its feet.

“Forty-two years,” Alice said, “forty-two years I’ve known Milly Lancaster. She was at my wedding. Me and Stanley. A match made in heaven.” She stared out of the window. “My arse,” she added, “if you’ll pardon my French.”

“Where’s your husband now?” Taylor asked.

“Stanley?” Alice looked slightly flustered. “Your guess is as good as mine. He walked out ten years ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Alice said. She sounded calmer again. “What about you? A pretty young girl like you must have somebody in your life.”

“No, there’s nobody.”

“There will be, you mark my words, but watch out — all men are liars. They promise the world and they always let you down. Give me the bees any day. Did you know that a bee will die for his queen if he has to? Without even thinking twice about it. That’s loyalty. No, men are worse than rats. Do you think the honey is all right? I still think it’s tasting a little odd.”