Jon and Trewe had been so engrossed in conversation, the Friday night crowd and the noise of the pub could just as well have been down south in Port Isaac.
Trewe's mobile beeped. Trewe looked at it before answering. "Yes, Perstow?"
He stood abruptly, nodded a dismissal to Jon and left.
Puzzled, Jon followed on his heels, but by the time he'd exited there was no sign of Trewe. His mobile sounded. It was Ruth Butler.
"Mr. Graham, there's someone in my garden."
He swung around full circle, searching for Trewe. He started off at a run to Ruth Butler's cottage. "Do you recognize him?"
"No."
"On my way. Call 999." He took off through the car park and over the footbridge spanning the River Perrin. The pathway ended at the alley behind Ruth Butler's back garden. He craned his neck to see
