So when a call for Leighton had been received from Amanda's elder sister, Jane decided to drive to Harrogate and introduce herself as the new SIO.
Maybe she could gather an insight into the personality of the dead girl by talking to a close family member.
Jane could hear the hullabaloo of toddlers at play as she stood outside the door of a house on a new development. All the surrounding dwellings had similar white doors with brass carriage lanterns on either side of the porch.
People-carriers and four-wheel-drive vehicles were in the majority, all equipped with child seats. This was professional family country. Amanda's sister, Elizabeth Jacobs, was married to a solicitor in Harrogate.
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Elizabeth tried to usher her into a beige-carpeted front room but Jane said yes to a cup of coffee and followed her into the kitchen where three small children were nominally having their tea. The smallest, evidently still in nappies, was pouring juice from his beaker into a crisp packet while the other two were savaging a packet of Jaffa cakes and ignoring the puddle on the table.
Jane took charge of the kettle while their mother dived in to sort out the mess. Elizabeth was blonde, overweight and pretty. She issued directions firmly but kindly and the children did as they were told, which was impressive. Observing the mother's laughing face, Jane supposed that dealing with three children under five might limit the time available to grieve for the loss of a sister.
As Elizabeth cajoled the children into some kind of order, shooing them into a small playroom next door, Jane noticed her West Country accent.
She'd read in the file that the family were from Cornwall. Elizabeth had gone to university in Leeds and horse-mad Amanda had followed her north, taking jobs first in Yorkshire yards then in Lancashire. Josephine, their younger sister, had resumed a round-the-world backpacking trip, having interrupted it for Amanda's funeral.
Once they had a few moments to themselves the light left Elizabeth's face.
Now Jane had a chance to examine her more closely, she noticed shadows like bruises beneath her eyes. It was soon apparent that she shouldered a burden of guilt for her sister's death.
`Can you believe that when I first met Pete I thought what a lovely guy he was? Good-looking, generous - and the way he spoke, as if he was a BBC
announcer. I encouraged Mandy to nail him down. "Don't let this one slip through your fingers," I said.' Elizabeth laughed bitterly. `Turns out he was one of the biggest losers on the planet.'
Jane said nothing, just nodded sympathetically. It was evident that Pete, the public schoolboy gone bad, had been adept at making a good first impression. Apparently women were forever trying to wean him off his gambling and heroin habits. None had succeeded. The sensible got out or suffered the consequences. And Elizabeth's sister had suffered worst of all.
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`She only died because of him. That's the most painful thing to bear. To think that she was just in the way when those drug-dealers came to kill him.'
`That's what you believe, is it?'
`Mr. Jones said it was all to do with a drug deal. It was, wasn't it?' `Quite possibly.'
Ì'd like to know why you haven't arrested the animals who did it. Mr.
Jones said he was pretty sure he knew who was responsible.'
`Mr. Jones isn't involved in the case any more. I'm now the Senior Investigating Officer.'
Òh?' She glared at Jane. `Does that mean it's all back to square one?
You're never going to catch them, are you?'
Jane was stung. Ìt doesn't mean that at all. I have every confidence that we will find the people responsible.'
`But?' Elizabeth prompted icily.
`But so far we have no direct evidence to link anyone with the murders.
It's quite possible that Pete's drug activities were to blame. Nevertheless we have to re-examine every aspect of the investigation.' Ìs that why Mr.
Jones is off the case and you're here instead?'
Jane wondered what subject Elizabeth had studied at university. She was obviously no fool. `Sometimes a change of personnel helps moves things along,' she said diplomatically.
The hostility had now disappeared from Elizabeth's face. She looked numb. Jane reflected that as a reassuring presence she probably came a poor second to her predecessor.
`My husband warned me it was all taking too long. He said you'd have made some arrests by now if you had a case.'
Fortunately, at that moment, a squeal of childish outrage from next door claimed Elizabeth's attention and she scurried off. By the time she returned, Jane was able to redirect the conversation.
`May I ask if you're aware of anyone who might have wanted to cause Amanda harm?'
Elizabeth was plainly taken by surprise. `Like who?' À jealous ex-boyfriend maybe.'
She shook her head. Òf course not.'
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`Please think carefully, Mrs. Jacobs. I don't mean any disrespect to your sister but I understand that before she moved in with Pete she had one or two admirers.'
That was putting it politely. According to Amanda's colleagues at the yard where she'd last worked, the stable girl had been as mad about boys as she was about horses.
Elizabeth's tone was defensive. 'Mandy was always popular with the lads -
before Pete turned her into a recluse. She was ever so warm and bubbly.
And really pretty.'
Jane thought of the photographs of the girl's partially burnt corpse. It was hard to reconcile the two images.
Obligingly, Elizabeth filled the silence. Òut of the three of us, Mandy never had much luck with men. I met Cliff at my first job and we just clicked. Same thing with Jo. She's off travelling with a boy she's been going out with since she was fifteen. Mandy was always searching for the right guy.' She shot Jane a rueful smile. `She used to enjoy the search though.'
`Did things end badly with any of these men?'
`Not that I can think of, but I wouldn't necessarily know. We didn't see as much of her after she moved. She used to bring her boyfriends round when she worked in Yorkshire. Ridgemoor's only thirty miles up the road.'
Jane nodded. She wasn't familiar with the horse-racing scene but Simon had given her a rundown on the various yards where Amanda had worked.
It had struck her that the girl was as promiscuous in her employers as she was in her choice of men. There seemed to be plenty of both.
A further outburst from next door interrupted them. Jane gathered bath time was approaching, which would effectively end their discussion. She wasn't sure that she'd managed to win Elizabeth over but, for now, she'd beat a retreat.
As she showed Jane to the door, Elizabeth said, Ì don't suppose you'd know what happened to all Mandy's photos?'
Jane shook her head. The cottage had been picked over in great detail in the days after the fire and everything that had survived had been released to the families of the deceased once they were adjudged to be of no further use to the investigation.
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`Mr. Jones let me have Mandy's personal things and there was a receipt for photo-developing in her bag. It made me wonder what happened to all her other photos. It would mean a lot to Jo and me to have them.'
`Where did she keep them?'
Ìn the sideboard. They were in an old biscuit tin, all loose.'
The sideboard had been in the front room downstairs, where the fire had started. Jane knew it was most unlikely they had survived the blaze. Ì'll check for you but I wouldn't get your hopes up.'
`No chance of that,' said Elizabeth as she closed the door on her visitor. Ì
ran out of hope some while ago.'
Jamie struggled up the crumbling footpath, trying to keep pace with the lanky figure ahead. His vest was soaked with sweat from the effort of running uphill and his trainers were drenched from the brown puddles which lay in wait at every turn. It had been Dave's suggestion that he accompany him on a run across the moor. An hour ago it seemed like a good idea but he was seriously out of practice.
He crested the rise and found Dave jogging on the spot, his big bullet head capped by a woollen hat, like an egg cosy. He flashed Jamie a toothy grin.
The sod was scarcely out of breath. `You're just in time,' he said, pointing up at the western sky.
Through the leaden clouds a broad shaft of late-afternoon sun played over the moor like a spotlight, picking out the humps and folds of the hillside and the sparkle of the winter-swollen stream at their feet.
`Bloody marvellous,' enthused Dave. `You've got a cracking spot here.'
Jamie nodded agreement. He was past speech. He dragged the keen air into his lungs in ragged gulps.
À professional sportsman's got to keep in shape,' Dave observed. `You were fitter in the nick.'
'Running's not really my sport,' Jamie managed. Àt least, not pelting uphill for miles with a maniac like you.'
Dave laughed over the stiff breeze now blowing drops of rain into their faces. 'Cross-country's the best, mate. Good for body and soul. Look at that.' He nodded towards the horizon where a rainbow was arching through the sky.
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Jamie couldn't deny it was spectacular but the rain was getting heavier and the wind felt like ice on his skin. As they watched, the sunlight was swallowed by rolling grey clouds and the rainbow faded from view.
Ì don't fancy your tent much tonight, Dave. Are you sure you won't settle for a bed indoors?'
Dave did not dignify that with a reply. He just shook his head and set off again, downhill this time, back the way they had come.
Jamie, much relieved, fell in beside him. `You'll eat with us though, won't you? Give us a rundown on progress so far.'
`What progress would that be?'
Even jogging gently downhill it was an effort to keep up. `You know, what you think about Pippa's horses.'
Ì think that the horses are very pretty,' Dave sprang across a puddle that was fast turning into a lake, `but not as pretty as your sister.' Jamie splashed after him. Ànd?'
'And nothing, mate. That's as far as I've got.'
Irritated by Jamie's questions or maybe by his lack of speed, Dave suddenly lengthened his stride and was away down the hill, safely out of earshot. Jamie plodded after him. There would be no catching the thin man this side of supper.
`Hey, Mum - I've got one for you.' Robbie's eyes gleamed from behind his wire-framed spectacles as he gazed eagerly at Jane from the doorway. She looked up from her paperwork piled on the table in the small sitting room.
This was the third interruption in the past ten minutes. Elizabeth Jacobs wasn't the only one with demanding children.
Ì thought you were doing your homework,' she said as sternly as she could. Here was her only child, fruit of a failed marriage, forced to bounce between two homes. The fight not to indulge him was carried out on a daily basis.
`Yeah, yeah,' he said dismissively. When his skin cleared up and he filled out he'd be a handsome lad, she thought. For the moment, however, he was a bit gawky. To be honest, more than a bit.
`Listen,' he went on. `You're in a room with three switches. Outside in the corridor are three light bulbs. You can press any combination of switches 106
but once you've left the room you can't go back again. How can you tell which switch controls which bulb?'
Jane groaned. This was typical of Robbie. He had an English essay to write but he'd do anything to postpone his proper work. It wasn't as if he didn't exercise his brain but he preferred to exercise it in a different direction. He loved intellectual puzzles, along with obscure science fiction novels and computer games that never seemed to end.
Jane had vetoed a computer in his bedroom, concerned that he'd spend all night logged on to graphic porn-sites. Then she discovered that Clive had laid on internet access for Robbie at his place. Shed hit the roof until Susan had shown her on the screen a record of the sites Robbie visited. It turned out he spent most of his time online playing chess against opponents on the other side of the world. There was not an incautiously garbed female in sight. True to her mother's instinct, Jane had now begun to worry that her son wasn't interested in girls.
`So, what do you reckon, Mum?'
She knew she ought to be grateful. He was a bright boy, hardworking too.
Even though some subjects bored him, he still knuckled down and did his best. And, as far as she was aware, he didn't smoke, didn't dabble with drugs or even overdose on unsuitable TV programmes. On the other hand, he avoided physical exercise wherever possible, preferred time spent in front of a computer to an hour in the park and had no female friends.
`Come on, Mum. Call yourself a detective?'
Jane couldn't begin to work out the puzzle he had set her. She was no good at them. Robbie was dismayed by her regular failures. How could she solve crimes if she had no talent for lateral thinking? Jane couldn't answer that one either.
`Shall I tell you the answer?'
She admitted defeat. Ì think you'll have to.'
His eyes gleamed with triumph. Ìt's obvious. You turn on two of the switches and, after twenty seconds or so, turn one of them off again. Then you go into the corridor. One bulb will be alight - that's the switch you've left on. One bulb will be stone cold - that's the switch you haven't touched.
And the third bulb won't be lit but it will be warm - that's the one you turned on and off. Easy.'
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And so it was - now he'd explained it.
`Honestly, Mum,' he continued, eager to rub her nose in it, `you're hopeless.' He said it with just the amount of affection in his tone to defuse the insult.
As he returned to his room, she dropped her eyes to the notes on the investigation. At the rate she was going, her son wasn't the only one getting away with murder.
Marie raked over the soiled wood shavings, savouring the once-familiar fug of the stables. In the much-missed days when she'd owned a horse, she'd never minded this chore - unlike Alan, who could be so lazy when he didn't feel like doing something. Once he'd sussed that she quite liked mucking out he'd left it all to her. `Some people are born to shovel shit,' he used to say to her. `Looks like you're one of them.' Her late-lamented brother could be a right pain sometimes.