Since there was more than a grain of truth in this, Joe was flummoxed for moment. He was experiencing what it would be like to be a full-blown detective – basically not all that different from uniformed duties, in that it could be plodding, repetitive work that didn’t yield spectacular results, especially in the first stages of an investigation, before it really got under way. It was becoming clear that he needed to cultivate patience, something he wasn’t naturally possessed of. The murder of Arthur Aston wasn’t sensational enough to have made headlines, except for a small piece in the Folbury Herald, though it might become so if it turned out to be connected with the Snowman case. So far, the resources at Folbury police station, previously never unduly stretched, had coped, though Reardon had managed to requisition from the powers-that-be at regional level an official car and a constable as driver for the duration of the murder enquiry, bicycles not being considered up to what might be required.
