‘I saw the police cars,’ she said. ‘I knew you’d come. ‘It’s Mrs Freer, isn’t it?’ Mac nodded. ‘Come inside.’ She led him not through to the kitchen this time, but into a small side room. ‘Sit down,’ she said, pointing to a comfortable armchair set on one side of the fireplace. Mac sat, Rina took the other chair. ‘They were after the gun, I suppose.’ She sounded resigned, weary. ‘Nothing seems to have been taken,’ he confirmed. ‘It’s hard to tell, the place is a mess, but we don’t think there’s anything missing.’ ‘And, of course, the gun wasn’t there.’ ‘Mrs Martin, I had to have it checked out.’ Mac was angry with himself and that anger transmitted in his voice. Rina waved it and him aside. ‘I don’t imagine it would have made much difference anyway,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t as if she could have used it and I don’t suppose it would have stopped them doing … what did they do to her?’ ‘She’s dead,’ Mac said shortly. ‘How?’ Rina wasn’t letting him off that easy.
