Murder Most Royal

Rozie shrugged. ‘That’s one of the things we need to find out. If the police were worried, they’d be investigating already. I can’t raise the issue with them until we have more to go on. Maybe he and Judy weren’t exactly working together, but she discovered something that would make her know who to suspect when he disappeared. Or, as I say, maybe it’s nothing. We need more than feminine intuition. The Boss doesn’t like to do anything until she’s sure of her facts. Talking of which, do you know where the accident happened?’

‘Sure. I can show you, if you like.’

They finished their tea and took the dog, in her harness, for a walk past the row of cottages and a little tea shop, to the end of the road, which formed a T-junction with the main road through the village. Katie pointed out the sharp bend twenty yards to their right, and the place beyond it where Judy had been found.

‘She was on her way home from a WI meeting in West Newton,’ Katie said. ‘Funnily enough, it was to go over the arrangements for the Boss’s visit in a fortnight. One of her friends dropped her off back here afterwards. Judy usually got out by the Scout hut, near my cottage, and walked from there. The lane to her house is round the corner, see? The way she was lying, it was clear she was hit by a car travelling out of the village, so it wouldn’t have seen her until just before the impact.’

Rozie tried to see a way in which the car could have known in advance where Judy would be. She failed. If you wanted to stage something that looked like a genuine accident, this was the perfect place to do it.

‘She wasn’t found for at least fifteen minutes,’ Katie said. ‘Luckily, the woman who spotted her is the local GP so she got good care until the ambulance came. It could have been fatal if she’d been there much longer.’

‘Did she usually cross in that place?’

‘Probably. I’ve done it myself. You don’t exactly get rush hour traffic in Dersingham. You can normally hear cars coming a mile off, especially in winter. But if the car was going fast . . .’

‘Was there any CCTV?’

Katie laughed. ‘In north Norfolk? I think there’s a camera in Fakenham but I’m not sure. And nobody remembers anything out of the ordinary. If they did, I’m sure they’d have said something.’

Rozie stared back down the main road. It was difficult to imagine a car being parked far enough away to build up enough speed to do damage, and yet close enough to time its impact precisely. If it had suddenly revved up, surely it would have attracted attention, even in a sleepy village like this?

Katie carried on. ‘I know you’re going to ask if it’s possible to find out when the meetings are, and it is. They’re on the WI website, so any local who knew where to look could’ve worked out roughly when Judy would be coming back. But she often stayed on to chat to people. You wouldn’t be able to know exactly when she’d get here. And how would you guess when she’d cross the road if you couldn’t see her until you rounded the bend?’

‘Mmm,’ Rozie agreed. ‘You’d need someone loitering at the bend. They’d have to make a phone call to the driver just as Judy approached.’

‘Wouldn’t that be obvious?’

‘Not if they had earbuds in. It would look as if they were just muttering to themselves.’

‘I can ask if anyone spotted a loiterer,’ Katie offered.

Something had been puzzling Rozie. ‘How?’ she asked.

‘How what?’

‘How do you ask a village? How d’you know so much already?’

‘Oh!’ Katie smiled. ‘Well, you could just mention something in the queue at the Co-op. That usually does it. Or you mutter under your breath in the tea shop, or after church. But I use A Load of Balls.’

‘Sorry?’

Katie’s grin widened. ‘They’re a WhatsApp group of knitters. I joined a few months ago. Judy suggested it, not surprisingly. They incorporate the Sweary Stitchers, who do embroidery, and the Happy Hookers, who crochet. The Sweary Stitchers are the best. They can teach every stitch in the book, but they tend to use them for swear words on little samplers and patchwork. It gets the rage out of their system.’

‘There’s rage round here?’

Katie gave Rozie a piercing look. ‘Of course there is. Grief. Frustration. Getting ill. Growing old. There’s a lot of rage in the countryside. But turning it into samplers is really therapeutic. They have their meetings in different people’s houses, so it’s good for seeing other people’s taste in kitchens and furniture. Judy suggested the group to me, not surprisingly. Anyway, between them all, they know most things. That’s how I heard about the hit-and-run.’

‘What do they think happened?’

‘Oh, they honestly think it was an accident. Some idiot boy racer. Judy was wearing a dark coat and hat, which wasn’t very clever of her, especially on a dark winter evening, but you don’t necessarily think about neon and safety clothing when it’s a five-minute walk, do you? They’ve got their theories on what happened to Edward St Cyr, too, by the way.’

Rozie frowned. ‘You haven’t asked about that?’