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mind. But I don’t know if we need to go down that route just yet, as neither Len nor Gracie had any church connections that I’m aware of. No. That wasn’t what was troubling me.’

‘Then what was?’

‘It’s the little things. It always is.’

‘You don’t think the burglary at the Blackwells’ office is significant, then?’

‘I don’t know, but that isn’t what I meant. There’s just something I can’t get my head around. It’s Natalie and her obsession with running.’

‘Is that so odd? She looks to me as if she has a classic obsessive personality. With some people it’s arranging the kitchen cupboards or putting their coat hangers the same way round.’

‘My mum reloads the dishwasher if Mikey or I load it. Not the same thing, of course, but I do see where you're coming from. I don’t have any reason to doubt her. I know she runs the route she says she does. I’ve seen her do it, even if we didn’t have the data to prove it.’

Ashleigh unpinned the map of Natalie’s route that was pinned up on the board and spread it out in front of them on the table. ‘It seems straightforward, doesn’t it.?’ Her fingers traced the route. ‘All the times. And that ten minute rest she said she had and always does have. It’s all there. And the arrival at the crime scene, exactly when she said she was there and minutes after Len was stabbed.’

‘I know. That lets her off the hook.’ He took the sheet and replaced it next to the one that had tracked Natalie’s run on the night of Gracie’s murder. ‘I don’t find it easy to suspect Natalie, I admit, even if this didn’t put her completely in the clear.’

‘But?’

‘But Claud. Here we are. A man murdered in broad daylight outside his house and he’s looking the other way. A woman whose body he stumbles on outside his office. Is that too much of a coincidence?’

Ashleigh thought of Claud. If Faye kept popping up in every strong woman in the tarot deck, Claud was more specific, a bull-necked crusading King of Swords, a symbol of action, wisdom and duality. You could add patience to that, too. But somehow the action, and the obvious symbolism of the swords, didn’t convince her. ‘There are a lot of coincidences going on here, it seems to me.’

‘Then they can’t all be coincidences.’ Jude hated coincidence.

‘It’s unlikely. We need to look a whole lot more closely at the connections.’ Because that was always the message she picked up from the cards, that things were connected at many levels, and sometimes in the least likely way. ‘I do agree with you that Claud has to be the main suspect. But he has no motive — almost the opposite. And even if he did, I just can’t see him killing anyone.’

‘It’s not unknown for killers to be in complete denial about their motives.’

He lifted that reproving eyebrow at her, and she laughed. Instinct was a starting point, not an ending, and it was finding the evidence to follow it up that would convict the killer — or killers — of Len Pierce and Gracie Pepper. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Jude, but we’ll get them in the end.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ He turned away from the board. ‘I’m done here for tonight. It’s nearly six. Let’s get away from this place. I spend too much time here, and I suspect you do, too.’

The previous day should have been the one day off they both had in a fortnight. ‘Yes. Okay.’

‘Are you doing anything?’

‘I’ve no plans.’

‘Then why don’t we go out for a meal somewhere?’

‘That would be fine. Any suggestions?’

He picked up his coat and looked around the depleted incident room, lifted a hand to Chris and turned away. ‘We could run down to Askham and get a pub meal. And I can take you in to visit my mum on the way.’

*

They were almost at the village of Wasby when Jude’s phone rang. Ashleigh glanced down at it where it lay in the cup holder. ‘Unknown number. Should I answer it?’

‘Wait for the voicemail.’ It was his work phone and he should have switched it off. He’d never learn. The ringing ended and after a moment she checked voicemail. ‘Jude. Phil Garner here. Can you give me a ring?’

Jude leaned heavily on the brake, pulling the Mercedes up in a gateway and turning off the engine. Phil. Realising he was in trouble and calling to cover his back? ‘This’ll be interesting. I didn’t know he had my number.’

‘I expect he’ll have got it from Tammy.’

‘Yeah, that must be it.’ He picked up the phone and dialled back. ‘Hi Phil. Jude here. What can I do for you?’

‘I remembered something.’ Phil’s tone was less confrontational that it had been. Jude had heard that before, always in someone who thought they were at risk and was protecting their interests. Playing along, trying to be one of the good guys. ‘It’s probably nothing. But it might be.’

‘Hit me with it.’ Jude stared out of the window. A horse strolled up to the gate and looked down its long muzzle at them, eyes gleaming in the car headlights.

‘It’s Gracie. Last week I was outside in the car park heading off after my shift. I saw her come out of the hospital entrance with a man. They walked over to a car — her car, I suppose, because she was driving, and they both got in and drove off.’

‘When was that?’

‘Friday. About four-ish. I can’t swear to the exact minute. Hope that doesn’t convict me of something.’

Some people couldn’t resist a sly comment. Phil was afraid. Rightly or wrongly, and of what? ‘Let’s hope not. Thanks for that. Did you recognise the man?’

‘Can’t say I did. And I wasn’t

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