The Order of Things by Graham Hurley Page A

obvious that Betty was in pain. He said she was really distressed. Because of her liver failing, she’d gone yellow. She hated taking drugs and refused to go into hospital but she didn’t want to live alone any more. She felt there was nothing left for her.’
    ‘Ralph mentioned Harriet Reilly?’
    ‘He did. He talked to her first, of course. Then she came to meet Betty.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Harriet was happy to do what she could.’
    ‘When was this?’
    ‘Six weeks ago. Betty died at the beginning of this month.’
    ‘Thanks to Harriet?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Natural burial?’
    ‘Yes.’
    This was becoming Harriet Reilly’s trademark, her way of avoiding the extra checks and paperwork that went with cremations. First Alec. Then Julia. And now – it seemed – Betty.
    ‘So where did this woman live?’ She’d abandoned the menu.
    ‘Lympstone.’
    Nandy, on a short fuse already, exploded. Suttle had just reported back on Sheila Forshaw.
    ‘She did what ?’
    Suttle repeated the story’s headline. They’d taken Forshaw back to her Exeter house. Luckily, her phone hadn’t been active since Bentner had been in touch and 1471 had delivered the number of a call box. Suttle had dialled the number there and then to save the hassle of going through BT, and after a minute or two a passer-by had lifted the receiver. The call box was on the northern edges of Ivybridge. Which, in Suttle’s view, probably meant that Bentner was hiding out on Dartmoor. He was describing Bentner’s recent passion for letterboxing when Nandy interrupted.
    ‘He’ll have moved on after making the call. That time in the morning he’ll have the roads to himself. We need to ANPR him.’ Automatic number plate recognition was a vital tool for operations like Buzzard. If Bentner stuck to the major roads, they could track him from camera to camera.
    Houghton reached for a phone but Nandy hadn’t finished. He wanted to know why Forshaw hadn’t reported the call.
    ‘I’ve no idea, sir. My best guess is that she likes him and was trying to protect him.’
    ‘By giving him a head start? After what he’d done?’
    ‘That’s a supposition, sir, if I may say so. Remember she has a vested interest in this. It was Forshaw who found the body. That was a horrible scene. She doesn’t believe he could have done it. That’s what she said. That’s what she told us.’
    ‘Brilliant. Top work, son. You think she’s implicated somehow? An affair, maybe? You think they might have been at it? Should we pull her in? Bosh her house? See how she takes a conspiracy charge? This is beyond belief, son. We’ve just spent twenty-four hours putting that man’s face in every house in the kingdom and we end up with dick all. He phones this woman in the middle of the night and it takes her another eight hours to let us know. What are we looking at here? Just give me something to go on.’
    Suttle glanced at Houghton for help. The DI was deep in the latest email. Oddly enough, it came from the Met Office.
    ‘ND?’ she queried.
    Suttle explained about the entries in Harriet Reilly’s travel journal. Nandy had at last begun to calm down. Suttle wanted to know more about the email.
    ‘It’s come from their HR department. They’re giving us three names.’ Houghton bent towards the screen. ‘Nadine Drexler. Nathalie Dorman. Nikki Drew.’
    ‘Addresses?’
    ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘If you want more, they’re suggesting you talk to Sheila Forshaw again. She’s his line manager, as you know.’
    ‘Perfect.’ Suttle couldn’t resist a smile. ‘Just as well I didn’t arrest her, boss. She might have gone No Comment by now.’
    With Nandy’s blessing, Suttle left the office to make the call. On the phone Sheila Forshaw sounded almost cheerful. The knowledge that Bentner was still free, still out of reach, must have made her day.
    Suttle wanted to know whether she’d seen the email from HR.
    ‘I was copied in. Like your DI.’
    ‘So what’s the