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It was almost lunchtime when Penn parked the car at Donkey Pool. At the last minute, he grabbed a Twix from the meal deals they’d bought on their way.

‘It’s gonna come again,’ Tiff said, looking towards the clouds that were likely to end the short dry spell.

He opened the packet and offered her one of the fingers. She took it, and they ate silently as they walked.

‘So, whereabouts was he fished out?’ Penn asked as they approached the lake.

‘Right here,’ Tiff said, standing just to the right of a bunch of bulrushes.

Penn looked around and saw a man at a spot directly opposite.

‘Come with me,’ he said, heading towards the lone figure.

As he neared, he noted the gear. Three rods, deck chair, cooler box, flask, umbrella.

Perfect.

‘Hey there,’ Penn called out. ‘How are you doing?’

‘My doings are fine, thanks for asking.’

Penn introduced them both and then waited.

‘Harry Guestford, Lower Gornal. Son of Thelma and Stan. Stop me once I’m boring you.’

‘You know about what happened here yesterday?’ Penn asked, getting right to it.

‘Hell, yeah, it was the talk of my local last night. Half expected to get turned away by your lot this morning but nope. I’m all set for the day.’

Yeah, seemed like the search team hadn’t spent too much time investigating.

‘Did you know him?’ Penn asked.

‘Not really. We all have our favourite spots. His was over there. Mine’s over here. I’d see him and wave, but he was a different fisherman to me,’ Harry offered.

‘How so?’ Penn asked. Surely fishing was fishing.

‘I get a steady stream of bites over here. Nothing huge but not tiddlers either. I ain’t got no need to pose for pictures for folks on Bookface. Most of ’em know what a fish looks like. I get a bite, reel him in, land him, thank him and throw him back.’

‘You thank the fish?’ Tiff asked.

‘Yeah, I’ve just put a hole in his mouth for sport so the least I can do is show my appreciation. That suits me. I don’t need the big ’uns over there.’

Penn said nothing, hoping he’d continue, and he was happy to.

‘Some folks sit over there to cast out wide after the biggest fish in the lake. Wait all day and catch nothing. Where’s the fun in that?’

Penn failed to see the fun in any of it, but horses for courses. ‘Why over there?’ he asked.

‘There’s a ledge that slopes down off the bank, maybe five or six feet out. Beyond that it goes deep pretty quickly, maybe to twenty feet. That’s where the big fish live.’

‘So there’s a ledge?’ Penn clarified.

‘Yep, the little buggers hide underneath it.’

It was now making sense to Penn how James Nixon had remained submerged for so long, but it raised another question.

‘Harry, where does that ledge run from?’

‘It starts just by the rushes and goes about ninety feet to the right.’

‘Got it. One last thing. If I head back over there, will you give me the thumbs up when I’m in the area where James used to sit?’

‘Can’t see why not. You’re brightening my day no end.’

‘Cheers, mate.’

‘What are you thinking?’ Tiff asked as they headed back around the lake.

‘You tell me,’ Penn said, marching ahead.

He stood to the left of the bulrushes and waved at the fisherman. He moved crab-like along the bank one foot at a time until the guy raised his hand.

Penn turned to Tiff. ‘Tell me what we’ve learned?’

If she was going to join CID, this was how she was going to have to start thinking.

She walked around, took a look and then stood beside him.

‘We know that he most likely drowned and there’s no obvious evidence of foul play but…’ She started tapping her chin thoughtfully. ‘If the pathologist is correct and our guy had some kind of episode, he’d have fallen. Even with a stagger he’d have landed in the shallow part of the water on the ledge.’

‘So?’

‘He could only have made it to the deeper water if he’d been pushed and then his body got caught on the underside of the ledge.’

‘Absolutely,’ Penn said, heading back towards the car. ‘Now we may well have ourselves a case.’

It took him a few seconds to realise that Tiff hadn’t heard, as she hadn’t yet caught up with him. He turned to find her still standing at the water’s edge with a puzzled expression.

‘Hey, what is it?’

‘The man was here fishing. He fell in or was pushed. He got stuck under the ledge after drowning.’

‘Yeah, we got that, Tiff,’ Penn said.

‘So what happened to his stuff?’

Penn felt the smile tug at his lips. Honestly, he hadn’t given that a thought.

In this particular instance, two heads were definitely working better than one.