Detective Constable Georgie Ellis smiled as the WPC brought the regulation mugs of coffee and accompanying biscuits into Donald May’s office. Ellis smiled at the recollection that twelve months ago, she had been the waitress, the factotum, the dogsbody. Now she was part of the inner cabinet, ready to take on the case of Father William Clair’s murder.

‘Are we sure that he was killed, sir?’

‘Well, there was certainly foul play, Georgie. Though it does seem odd that someone should try to strangle the victim after death. Fizz – Dr Harbord – will not know for certain what the cause of his dying was until she can do the postmortem.’

Ellis looked at May and then at DS Riggs.

‘So, Clair could have died of natural causes?’

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