The Moth Catcher by Ann Cleeves Page A

by a middle-aged woman. The woman was fit. Not an inch of spare flesh. She wore specs and had curly hair that looked like a Brillo pad. She wore wellingtons, jeans and a T-shirt. No coat or jersey.
    ‘Janet O’Kane?’ Vera was only halfway out of the car and had to shout above the sound of excited dogs.
    ‘Yes?’ The woman stopped, but the dogs bounded off.
    ‘Inspector Vera Stanhope. Have you got time for a chat?’
    ‘If you don’t mind a walk.’ She nodded after the Labradors. ‘They’re used to a big garden and they’re going stir-crazy in the house.’
    ‘It was good of you to take them on.’
    ‘I’m not sure what my husband makes of our new house-guests but, really, it was the least we could do. Two people dead! I can hardly believe it.’ She paused and they walked down the track for a little way. ‘I’m pleased that you can join me. I was a bit anxious about going out on my own, even with the dogs. Ridiculous, I know. John said he’d come, but he’s not been well and I could tell he’d rather not.’
    She set off down the lane.
    ‘I’d usually go up onto the hill, but there are lambs, so it’s probably better to avoid there today. Wren’s very well behaved, but Dipper’s a bit of a bugger. He’s her son.’
    It took Vera a moment to realize that she was talking about the dogs. ‘Do you look after them very often?’
    ‘If the Carswells are only away for a weekend I go down to the house a couple of times a day to feed them, let them out – you know. I’d love to have a dog of my own, but John’s not keen.’
    ‘It’s a lovely place to live,’ Vera said.
    ‘Isn’t it? John was an academic at Newcastle University and the plan was always to retire early and find somewhere with some space to breathe. Live the good life. Maybe it’s a bit daft, but it works for us.’ Her voice was very bright.
    She took a footpath that led from the lane and onto a narrow bridge over the burn. The dogs nosed through the undergrowth. There were wood anemones, celandines and all around them birdsong. It occurred to Vera briefly that she should get out more, take a bit of exercise as the doctor had advised. At least it would stop Joe nagging, and she might even enjoy it. ‘How well do you know the Carswells?’
    ‘I met Helen when I was walking and she was out with the dogs. I didn’t realize who she was at first. Since then we’ve been down to the big house for drinks a few times, and John and Peter seem to get on very well. Both history geeks. Helen calls in for coffee if she’s walking our way. She’s a very sympathetic woman. I miss her company while she’s away.’
    ‘Very chummy.’ Vera wondered about that, if the close relationship between the O’Kanes and the people at the big house caused resentment among the other residents of Valley Farm. ‘And you get on well with your closer neighbours?’
    There was a brief pause. ‘Oh, we do. We’re very lucky.’ She threw a stick and watched Dipper chase after it. ‘Sometimes I think this period of our lives is a kind of regression. We have no real responsibilities. The six of us at the farm are of an age when we should be caring for elderly parents or grandchildren, but coincidentally we’re all free of those ties. It feels a bit like being a student again. We have nobody to worry about except ourselves.’
    ‘The retired hedonists’ club.’ Vera was feeling a little breathless and wished the woman would slow down. She sat on a fallen tree and Janet came to join her.
    ‘Ah, somebody told you about that. John’s little joke. Though the pedant in me thinks it’s not quite right. It sounds as if we used to be hedonists and now we’ve stopped. In fact we’re hedonists who happen to be retired.’
    ‘And what form does the hedonism take?’ Vera had never been very good at grammar at school. Hadn’t seen the point, as long as you could make yourself understood, and now she was just confused.
    ‘Oh, nothing very dramatic! We don’t go