“Would you like a bacon sandwich?” Keya asked.

“I better not.” Gilly tapped her ample tummy, “but I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea.”

Gilly leaned against the hot drinks counter as Keya boiled the kettle and prepared their cups of tea. She’d only drunk half her morning coffee, but she now fancied a cup of tea.

“So, have you found out what happened to the girl at the stones?” Gilly asked again.

“We’re no further forward than we were when we spoke yesterday,” Keya replied. “And I’m not certain we’ll ever know what really happened.”

Keya slid Gilly’s tea across the counter, and as she did so, she felt Gilly staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

“You look tired. Like you need a holiday.”

“That’s what Sujin said,” and when Gilly raised her eyebrows, Keya added, “Not with him. Perhaps with Dotty if she has any time off. Nothing fancy, just a short break in the UK.”

“That sounds an excellent idea, but I suggest you go before the school holidays. The prices at least double from the end of July through August.”

“Did someone mention holidays?” Monica asked as she approached the counter. “And I’d love a cup of coffee if you’re making one. I need something to get me going this morning.”

Monica was Ryan’s mum. She had the same cheerful demeanour as her son, and a positive outlook on life. She was short and neat, with her dark hair streaked with grey, cut into a bob. Her only extravagance was her shoes. Today she was wearing a pair of baby pink ballet style shoes which Keya was concerned she’d ruin by dropping tomato sauce or hot oil on them.

“Yes, we think Keya needs a break,” Gilly said.

“I agree. You’re always racing from the cafe to the police station and back again. Where are you thinking of going?” asked Monica eagerly.

“I don’t know. It was only a suggestion Sujin made yesterday. About going with Dotty,” Keya added hastily.

As she prepared Monica’s coffee, her mind wandered back to the previous evening. Sujin was knowledgeable on a wide range of subjects and, when he spoke about them, he made them sound interesting, rather than boring. And her pasta had been perfect. Rich and creamy, and she and Sujin had shared a salad which had added freshness.

And she’d found his hand on hers reassuring rather than possessive.

“Keya, are you listening?” Monica demanded.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“That I have lots of brochures for cruises and African safaris. I really can’t make up my mind which we should do. A cruise will be relaxing with every luxury provided and we can visit lots of different places. But this might be my last chance to visit Africa and I so want to see elephants and giraffes in the wild.”

Keya handed Monica a steaming cup of coffee and said, “That sounds great,” although she knew her voice lacked enthusiasm.

But Monica didn’t appear to notice. “I know. And I never believed I could afford such a trip until you let me work here. It’s all so exciting.”

Keya thought she saw in Monica a dutiful wife and mother, who’d finally been allowed her freedom and the chance to earn her own money and spend it as she wanted. Keya smiled, delighted that she’d been able to offer Monica such an opportunity. And Monica was a great cook and a steady head in the kitchen during busy periods of service in the cafe.

“I think I’ll only manage a few days away this time. Perhaps to Wales or the Lake District,” Keya said.

Monica looked disappointed.

Keya’s phone rang, and she looked down at the screen. “It’s Ryan.”

She stepped out from behind the counter and away from Gilly and Monica as she took the call.

“Morning Ryan. Do you have news of Daisy’s death?”

“Afraid not. But Farmer Minchin, on whose land the Rollright Standing Stones are located, made an angry call this morning reporting people vandalising his crops. Apparently, there’s a crop circle in the field next to the stones.”

Keya groaned.

“Can you pick Warren up from the station and take him with you?”

“Warren?” Keya queried.

“Constable Sparrow.”

Keya sighed. Time to get back to her other job. “Tell him to be there in twenty minutes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Once again Keya approached the Rollright Standing Stones. This time a pale blue battered Land Rover Defender was parked in the first lay-by.

She pulled up behind it as an angry-looking man with red cheeks and a flat tweed cap climbed out. He waited for her and Warren, his feet planted wide apart, and he did not look happy.

“Mr Minchin?” asked Keya as she pulled her black police hat onto her head and rearranged her ponytail, so it sat snugly.

“Aye, and you’ll be t’police.”

“Sergeant Varma, and my colleague, Constable Sparrow. You reported an act of vandalism.”

“Aye, someone has destroyed my wheat and bashed it down to create a daft pattern. Aurora and her like will tell you it’s the spirits, but it ain’t. Someone has deliberately damaged my crop.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Keya commiserated as she, Warren and Farmer Minchin entered the grassy area of the standing stones.

The blue and white police tape flapped in the gathering wind.

“It’s bad enough folks trampling about at the stones and wandering out into my field, but this is deliberate.”

“I understand, sir. This isn’t the first crop circle we’ve been called to this month,” Keya explained.

Farmer Minchin led them down a narrow path clear of growing wheat towards the centre of the field. It was hard to tell from ground level the exact shape of the crop circle, but Keya marvelled at the creativeness of whoever had made it.

“See, flattened and lying on the floor. It’ll considerably decrease my yield. Make sure you write that in your report.”

Keya considered Farmer Minchin. Was he annoyed at the damage caused or more concerned with claiming as much as possible on his insurance?

Warren moved around the area, taking photographs with his phone while Keya asked the obligatory questions.