Ryan added, “The dad’s a slob, and we know he likes to spend time in the pub. I don’t think he would have been easy to live with after Daisy’s mother left him for another man.”

“She’s back in the village, too. Doreen Skinner, she’s called, but I got the impression she’s no longer with Mr Skinner,” said Keya. “She heard about the death in the village early this morning and walked up to the standing stones. She was very upset.”

“Inspector Sue is with her now,” Inspector Evans revealed. “And then Sue’s going to see the father and younger sister.”

“She’s a funny one, sir. The sister,” Ryan said.

“Because she believes in fairies?” Keya asked him. “She does spend a lot of time with Aurora and Viv, and she probably needs somewhere to escape to rather than spending all her time looking after her father, but I know what you mean.”

“She said she’d killed her sister, because she prayed to the fairies to bring her home, and Daisy had refused them,” Ryan explained.

Inspector Evans rolled his eyes.

“We know fairies didn’t kill Daisy,” Keya said, frustration seeping into her voice.

“But something supernatural appears to have done. What other explanation is there?” Ryan asked, his voice sincere.

The room was silent.

Then Keya asked, “Sujin, was there evidence of any sexual activity before her death?” She tried to remain professional, but she felt her cheeks burn.

“Yes. Do you think that’s important? That she was assaulted? There is no sign of bruising or …”

“No, I think it was consensual. I just wanted to check. Theo didn’t mention it, but he was still in a state of shock.”

“Where do we go from here, sir?” Ryan asked.

“I’d like you to look into her bank records, her phone calls, her computer if she had one, and any social media accounts. Sergeant Varma and Constable Sparrow should check the crime scene again, now that everyone has left, not that I think you’ll find anything.” He looked at Keya.

“And then we’ll continue interviewing anyone who’s been in contact with the victim recently, starting with her mother.”

Inspector Evans looked round the room and sighed. “This may lead nowhere, but in case there is something that the post-mortem has missed, we need to ensure we have followed the correct procedure and, more importantly, that we do everything to bring justice to Daisy Bentham.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Keya drove Constable Wayne Sparrow to the Rollright Standing Stones. “What do you know about this case?” she asked.

“A young woman died during the night, and we need to establish how, and if, someone killed her.”

“Yes, I suppose that is correct, although at this stage we need to question if anyone else was involved or not. We shouldn’t just jump to the conclusion that she was murdered. At least not until we have the full results of the post-mortem.”

Several cars were parked in the first lay-by beside the field where the standing stones were located, but Keya managed to find a space in the second one between a silver Mini and a white Toyota Yaris.

Entering the coppice, Keya noticed a full black dustbin bag propped up against a fence post and, when she entered the grassy area beyond it, she spotted a small thin figure collecting rubbish inside the circle of stones.

Striding forward, she called, “Dora,” and the figure stopped and looked up. Keya ducked under the flapping white and blue police tape and approached Dora Potts, who was standing beside another open, black dustbin bag.

“What are you doing?” Keya asked.

“Someone has to tidy up,” Dora replied in a defiant voice, showing a steely side to her character. “They call themselves new age and at one with nature, but they’re still happy to leave all their litter behind. Look at this.”

Dora picked up a plastic energy drink bottle. “How long do you think it will take to decompose? And left out here, it’ll blow about and get stuck in a tree or a hedgerow, or some poor animal might try to eat it.”

“But this is a crime scene,” Keya said, with a note of understanding. She was also frustrated by younger generations calling for changes to environmental policy while happily using their mobile phones, leaving the lights on, and dropping their rubbish. And someone like Dora, from the generation they complained about, was left to tidy up after them.

Dora glared at Constable Sparrow when he joined them, as if he was personally responsible for all the debris.

“What crime?” Dora protested.

“Daisy’s death.”

“That was unfortunate, but it isn’t a crime to die.”

“It is if someone else is involved,” Keya responded.

Dora’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed a silent O.

“I’m not saying anyone was,” Keya continued. “We still aren’t certain of the cause of death but, until we are, we have to treat this as a suspicious death. My colleague, Constable Sparrow, will take that dustbin bag from you, as he’ll need to sort through it, and I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave the standing stones.”

“When can I finish tidying up? We can’t leave it like this. What will visitors say?” Dora demanded.

“Hopefully there won’t be too many visitors over the next few days and the police tape will keep those who do come away from this area.” Keya turned to Constable Sparrow and said, “When you take the rubbish bags to the car, can you collect the three plastic fence posts I put in the boot, and the roll of tape, so we can make the cordon more secure?”

Constable Sparrow took the black bag from Dora, who glowered at Keya.

Keya regarded Dora thoughtfully. She wasn’t just the diminutive figure she liked people to think she was. “What did you think of Daisy Bentham?”

“She was a jumped-up little madam.”

Keya stepped back, surprised by the bitterness in Dora’s voice. But she waited for Dora to expand.

“Moving into Mill House and announcing her grand plans to the whole village. Redecorating and updating, she called it,” spat Dora. “And that wonderful garden.”

“Do you know it?” asked Keya.

“Know it? I designed it. I lived there for fifty years.”

“But I thought the old mill manager lived there?” Keya queried in an uncertain tone.

“He did. He was my father, Sir Anthony’s younger brother, and we lived at Mill House as a family. My mother died young, and I looked after Daddy until he became too ill to work. And then Sir Anthony threw us out and installed Dorothy’s son as the new manager.”

“Dorothy?” Keya was confused.

“Yes, Dorothy Watson. She’s Sir Anthony and my father’s younger sister.”

“So you are Sir Anthony’s niece?”