‘So?’ ‘I was just wondering if they might have seen something they shouldn’t have.’ ‘“While cleanin’ winders?”’ Crombie asked with a grin. ‘Could be. We’ll have to see all their customers. Come to that, they could have found something incriminating at the house they burgled.’ ‘And tried blackmail?’ ‘It’s well within their province. Pike tried to phone the owners last night about the recovery of their goods, but there was no reply. Rather than ring back, Jackson and I’ll go along and see if we come up with anything.’ It was a lovely day for a drive, and Webb felt his spirits lift as they drove out of town. If only he had his paintbox with him to record the summer countryside: waist-high cow parsley under hedges festooned with hawthorn; heavy-laden chestnuts, their green canopies studded with waxy candles; rounded hills spiked with steeples and fields brilliant with rapeseed. In such surroundings it was hard to believe that murder had brought them here.
