The Bone Garden by Kate Ellis

police to arrive and had come quietly. He was a model villain: stabbing a stranger in the back, as the
     inspector had said, just wasn’t his style at all.
    As he stared at the computer screen, Wesley remembered something. He had promised himself that he would check Jamie’s name,
     just to make sure that Della wasn’t consorting with anybody undesirable like a mass murderer, an armed robber … or a fraudster.
     All through the previous evening he had had a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right about the man, but he hadn’t
     been ableto pinpoint exactly what. But knowing Della, he thought, a colourfully criminal past might prove attractive in a man: might
     give her added kudos in the sociology department, where she taught. There was no accounting for the way his mother-in-law’s
     mind worked. He tapped out the name James Delmann and waited.
    But there was no match for the name. James Delmann had led a tediously virtuous life – either that or Delmann wasn’t his real
     name. He had claimed to come from Leeds. He wondered whether he should get on to the Leeds police and see if they knew of
     anyone answering Jamie’s description defrauding unsuspecting widows in their area. But then he rebuked himself. He had found
     James Delmann too smooth by half – but perhaps he was just prejudiced against the silkily confident. Or maybe his work in
     the police force was making him too suspicious. He would report back to Pam that all was well and that her mother wasn’t in
     immediate danger of rape, murder or robbery.
    ‘Got a minute, Sarge?’
    Wesley looked up to see Steve Carstairs standing there, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
    ‘Yes, Steve. What is it?’ He pressed a key and wiped James Delmann’s name from the computer screen.
    ‘I’ve been through all the statements from the people staying in the caravans near the dead man’s,’ Steve said, avoiding Wesley’s
     eyes. ‘Nobody saw nothing. But a woman in a caravan in the next row thought she heard raised voices late on Tuesday night
     … around one in the morning, she said.’ He put a pile of papers on the desk.
    ‘Thanks. It might be worth having a word with her to see if she can tell us anything else. When’s she due to leave the site?’
    Steve looked at him blankly.
    ‘When does her holiday finish? When’s she going home?’ Wesley did his best to hide his impatience.
    ‘I think she said Monday,’ Steve mumbled, his hands in the pockets of his expensive leather jacket.
    ‘Well, why don’t you get over there now and see if you can have another word with her. Find out exactly what she heard.’ Steve
     turned to go. ‘Take Paul Johnson with you. Okay?’ PC Johnson was a sensible, if spotty, young constable on secondment to CID.
     Wesley could rely on him to provide a steadying influence.
    As Steve left the office, jangling the keys to his precious Escort XR3i ostentatiously, Rachel came over and perched herself
     onWesley’s desk. ‘How’s it going?’ she whispered, leaning towards him. ‘Steve doesn’t get any easier, does he? I’ve heard rumours
     that he wants to apply to join the Met.’
    ‘That’s all the Met needs,’ said Wesley. ‘As if they don’t have enough problems. I shouldn’t have thought he’d want to leave
     his home comforts. Am I right in thinking he has a flat in Morbay and his mum comes in and does all his cleaning and washing?’
    ‘That’s right. No wonder he thinks women are there for his convenience. How did the post-mortem go?’
    ‘How do post-mortems ever go? Unpleasant. The victim was stabbed twice in the back and it’s possible the murderer went through
     the place taking anything that would identify the victim and wiping away any incriminating fingerprints. It seems he or she
     was efficient.’
    ‘So we’ve drawn a blank?’
    ‘It’s early days but the boss and I are going to have a chat with Craig Kettering. His fingerprints were found at the scene
     and the boss has a