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Poe studied the magpie. It had been attached professionally. No wrinkles, no peeling edges.

‘How did you fix the logo on?’

‘Silkscreen print transfers. The ones we use are designed for industrially washed work clothes. There are seven or eight companies who can do it in a three-mile radius of here alone, though.’

Poe grunted his frustration.

‘Tilly’s program identified a pterodactyl as being the most likely image,’ he said. ‘A gliding Batman was second and an eagle third. There were seven others we have to consider too.’

‘Pterodactyls are flying dinosaurs from the Tithonian age of the Jurassic period, Sean Carroll,’ Bradshaw said.

Carroll smiled. ‘Flying kites is just a hobby, Miss Bradshaw. During the day I’m an entomologist at the Great North Museum – what used to be called the Hancock Natural History Museum; I know what a pterodactyl is.’

‘Is there anyone we can ask?’ Poe said before Bradshaw could respond. If she had a fault it was that she could be a bit snippy about any science that wasn’t maths. She barely tolerated physicists; she wasn’t going to let a biologist get the better of her.

‘Best I can do is ring round some of the event organisers,’ Carroll said. ‘See if anyone recognises them.’

It wasn’t a brilliant solution – they weren’t even sure the killer flew kites competitively. Poe said as much.

‘Oh, he flies competitively, Sergeant Poe. I can guarantee you that. If you just w

ant to go in a field and turn a few loops, any thirty-quid stunt kite will do. This is a next-level kite with a personalised logo; someone will know the man who stands under it.’

Chapter 24

Poe had an hour to kill before Estelle Doyle’s post-mortem. The sea breeze was clearing his lungs, so he walked down to the beach with Bradshaw and Edgar, who immediately started playing tug-o-war with a sun-bleached piece of driftwood, the spaniel’s tail wagging faster than a twanged ruler. Bradshaw finally wrested the stick free, pretended to throw it, and when Edgar ran off she doubled over laughing.

Poe stood and watched. Before long his skin was coated in a light mist of brine. He licked his lips and tasted salt. Foam-crested waves lapped at his feet. He liked the North Sea almost as much as he liked the Irish Sea. It was rough and choppy, grey not blue. A British sea. Even in summer it was too cold to swim in.

He joined Carroll and watched him expertly fly his kite. With the slightest pull he had it twisting and turning and doing loop-the-loops, with another it was slicing through the air like a peregrine falcon. At all times he was in complete control.

A breathless Bradshaw joined them. Her face was red and her eyelashes were encrusted with salt. She was grinning wildly.

‘Edgar’s found another stick, Poe. He ran into the sea so I couldn’t chase him.’

‘He’ll come out when he’s bored, Tilly.’

‘Watch this,’ Carroll said. He straightened his right arm and pulled back his left. The kite dipped sharply and raced towards the sand. At the last possible moment he pulled it up. It flew three feet above Edgar’s head and he launched himself into the air trying to catch it. For a few minutes Carroll flew nearer and nearer to the spaniel without ever getting close enough for him to catch it. Edgar barked in frustration.

‘How did you get into this?’ Poe asked.

‘A few years ago I wasn’t feeling very well,’ he replied. ‘I asked the doctor what he recommended for chronic wind and he suggested a kite. Ten years later, here I am, addicted.’

Bradshaw frowned.

‘That was irresponsible,’ she said. ‘Excessive flatulence can be a warning sign for something serious. He should have referred you to a gastroenterologist.’

‘It’s a Tommy Cooper joke, Tilly,’ Poe explained.

‘Who?’

‘Google him when you get the chance. He’s one of the best comedians there’s ever been.’

‘I will, Poe.’

He knew she wouldn’t. Other than her weird sci-fi shows, she eschewed all forms of light entertainment.

‘I suppose the real reason is that I’ve studied insects and arachnids my whole adult life,’ Carroll said, his eyes never leaving the kite. ‘It seemed only natural to have a hobby that included an element of flying.’