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With the post-mortem over, they had said goodbye to Doyle over the Perspex barrier that separated the viewing area from the post-mortem room. Doyle was still wearing full barrier PPE, so Poe was at least spared having to kiss her goodbye in front of a grinning Nightingale.

‘See you for tea?’ Doyle asked.

‘If I can,’ Poe replied. ‘I’ll text you.’

Nightingale was needed back in Cumbria. She took the note that had been left under Poe’s windscreen wiper. ‘I’ll arrange for this to be forensically examined,’ she said. ‘What are your thoughts on it, Poe?’

Poe shrugged. ‘Although they weren’t as batshit crazy as I’d been led to believe, a close-knit community like the Children of Job is the perfect breeding ground for resentment to build up. It’s possible someone saw we were cops—’

‘Linus isn’t a police officer, Poe,’ Bradshaw nipped in.

‘Great point, Tilly. It’s possible someone saw some cops and decided to get even on a long-held grudge.’

‘You’ll look into it?’ Nightingale asked.

‘If that’s what you want us to do, ma’am?’

Nightingale didn’t immediately answer. ‘The note was left for you, not me,’ she said after a while. ‘It makes sense if you stay on it for now.’

‘Then I have my instructions.’

‘Where will you start? Israel Cobb isn’t on any local or national databases we can access.’

‘Same place I always do when I’m searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found,’ he said. He turned to Bradshaw. ‘Tilly, find me Israel Cobb, please.’

***

‘Shall I keep working on the alphanumerical tattoos as well, Poe?’ Bradshaw asked when they were back in the car.

‘No, you were right, Tilly,’ Poe replied. ‘Without more information we run the risk of wasting hundreds of hours decoding what might end up being something as stupid as his crop rotation policy.’

‘OK, Poe.’

Bradshaw removed two computers from her bag and connected them with a cable. She fiddled with her phone and began typing. Poe knew she was doing something she called ‘tethering’ although he didn’t have a clue what that meant. As far as he was concerned, ‘tether’ was almost tethera, number ‘three’ in the ancient Cumbrian sheep-counting system. The rhythmic yan, tan, tethera and so on had been used by shepherds up until the Industrial Revolution. He had yan, tan, tethera on one of his mugs at home.

‘How will you find Israel Cobb, Tilly?’ Linus asked.

Bradshaw glanced at Poe. He nodded his permission.

‘First of all, I will confirm that he exists,’ she said, continuing to type. ‘Once I have done that—’

‘What if he doesn’t exist?’

She paused. ‘He does.’

‘You can’t possibly know that. Israel Cobb could be someone’s nickname. It could be the name mothers use to make children eat their vegetables. If you don’t finish your green beans Israel Cobb will come for you. It could—’

‘He exists.’

‘How can you be so sure though? Just because Poe thinks he exists doesn’t mean—’

‘I know he exists because I’ve already found him.’

Linus went quiet. Poe smiled to himself.

‘You’ve found him?’ Linus said.

‘I have.’

‘In less than a minute you’ve found someone Superintendent Nightingale couldn’t find in’ – he checked his watch – ‘three hours?’

Bradshaw shrugged.

‘But . . . but how? Which databases did you search?’

Bradshaw didn’t answer. She was wearing a look Poe had come to know well. It was the look that said she’d been accessing databases she had no legal right to.

Poe came to her rescue. ‘Trade secrets, Snoopy.’

‘But—’

‘But nothing. What did you find, Tilly?’

‘Israel Cobb was born in 1964 in Suffolk. He moved to Cumbria twenty years later and I don’t think he ever left.’

‘He isn’t in any of the Children of Job records though,’ Poe said. He added, ‘Nightingale would have found something by now if he were,’ to give the bishop some cover. Linus didn’t need to know what they knew.

‘He isn’t, Poe. If he was ever there, his records were expunged.’

‘Which would fit with him falling out with Cornelius Green,’ Poe said, remembering what the note had said. ‘It must have been a full-on row if Cornelius had Israel’s life deleted. Perhaps we have our first suspect. Maybe Israel Cobb thought it was time he reclaimed whatever position he had previously held at the Children of Job.’

‘Then why didn’t the note just say, “Israel Cobb did it”,’ Linus said. ‘Why be so cryptic?’

‘Tilly?’ Poe said. ‘You want to remind Snoopy what my motto is?’

‘Which one, Poe? You have lots of mottos.’

‘The one about stupid questions.’

‘Ah, that one.’ She turned in her seat to face Linus. ‘Poe says that the person who said there are no F-word stupid questions had never had to listen to the F-word idiots he has had to listen to.’

‘I hardly—’

‘He also says why can’t people F-word think for themselves every now and then? Or at least look on F-word Google before they start F-word bothering him. I think he means we have no way of knowing why the person who wrote the note said what they did. That’s what we’ll be trying to find out next, I imagine. Isn’t that right, Poe?’

‘It is, Tilly,’ Poe said. He glanced at Linus in the rear-view mirror. His face was beetroot-red. Good, Poe thought. He knew the bloke was a spook, but he was too interested in their methods as far as Poe was concerned. He’d have a word with Bradshaw later. Make sure she didn’t drop herself in it. ‘Where does Israel Cobb live now, Tilly?’

‘Just outside Skelton. It’s near Penrith, Poe.’

‘I know Skelton, Tilly. Small village. Has a pub that does nice food.’ He checked the clock on the dashboard. ‘It’s coming up to six now and we still have an hour before we get to the M6.’

‘We’ll be standing down then?’ Linus said. ‘It’ll be nearly eight o’clock before we get there.’

‘Tilly and me aren’t paid to stand down, Snoopy. We’re paid to stand up.’

‘It’s too late to interview witnesses, Poe. Eight o’clock is an intrusion.’

‘You got somewhere else you need to be?’ Poe said. ‘This is a murder investigation and Israel Cobb isn’t a witness, he’s a suspect. That means he keeps our hours; we don’t keep his.’