16
Hannah arrived at Jane’s and after eating rather more cake than was good for us, washed down with several cups of tea, we took Poppy for a walk on the way back to Rosecroft. Keen to know the identity of the dead woman, Hannah was impatient with me for failing to prise any information out of the detective.
‘We’re not talking about an amateur sleuth,’ I retorted, stung by her criticism. ‘You try getting anything out of a professional detective. This woman’s an inspector, trained and experienced in dealing with people like us.’
‘People like you,’ Hannah muttered, as though she would have succeeded in persuading the inspector to talk.
‘She’s never going to let anything slip,’ I insisted. ‘It’s just not like that. I can’t explain it, but it was like every word she spoke was carefully c
