She pushed a finger against an area of rust and the finger went straight through. She wiped the finger clean and took a walk around the graveyard. The grass was damp with dew. Birds were singing. She could count the number of clouds in the sky. She checked her watch. She had woken up someone from the council and asked them who would be in charge of the graveyard. He would meet her here. By now, he should have been here.

She kept walking. Behind a hedge she found a compost heap. There was a digger, too, and a wheelbarrow with a rake in it. The wheelbarrow had stains on it, not rust this time but something more like blood. Jane made a note to herself: get forensics down here. They could check the car at the same time. Maybe there’d be blood there too. As she continued her walk, she saw that back towards the gates the grass was stained. She crouched down. Again, it looked like blood. Someone had dripped blood along here. Someone wounded.

She retraced her steps, taking more care this time. She was looking for evidence. She was looking for something like a fresh grave. A sniffer dog might help…

Then she saw the man standing at the gates. He was examining them and shaking his head. He saw her and started walking towards her, hands in pockets. There was a bag on his shoulder. Maybe it contained his work clothes and packed lunch. Jane introduced herself.

‘Paul Mason,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘A carjacking, was it? Boy racers?’

‘A man in his late fifties, actually. At least, that’s what we think. Can I take a look inside your shed?’

Mason nodded and led the way. He unlocked the shed and pulled open the door.

‘Nothing’s missing,’ he said.

‘What time did you leave work yesterday, Mr Mason?’

‘Usual time. Five o’clock.’

‘Do you work here alone?’

‘I’ve got an assistant. I call him Gravy.’

‘Gravy?’

‘Short for graveyard. He was always hanging around this place. Never seen someone so pleased to be offered a job.’