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yesterday,’ Mrs Court replied. ‘We took our grandchildren to the park after lunch. They were fascinated by all of the cars, vans and flashing lights. People were saying that a body had been found. Is that right?’
    ‘Yes. I can’t give you any further details except that it had been there a long time. That is why we need information. Were you still working at the agency when the house was sold last June?’
    ‘Yes. It was one of the last sales I was involved with before I left. A lovely house, and nice gardens too. They were a pleasant family who bought it. I dealt with some of the paperwork.’
    Rae sipped her coffee. ‘I’ve seen all of the official records at the agency, but do you know any other details? Anything about the people who lived there while it was being let out? The previous owners? Anything would help. I’m trying to build up as full a picture of its history as possible.’
    The older lady nibbled at a chocolate biscuit. ‘It was empty for about six months before it was sold last spring. Before that it had been rented by three families — furnished, I think. But in each case the lease was only temporary. I can’t give you much in the way of detail because we didn’t handle the lets. This is just what I know from general chatter.’
    ‘I’ll need to write this down,’ said Rae, opening her notebook.
    Margaret Court sipped her coffee. She talked slowly, as if checking each memory as it came to light. The three lets had each been for periods of between six and eighteen months, administered by an agency in London that specialised in homes for long-stay visitors from abroad. As far as Margaret Court knew, two of the lets had been to foreign diplomats and one to a visiting academic.
    ‘But these were all in the past eight years,’ she added. ‘Further back than that is a bit difficult. I’ve a feeling that it might have been owned by an actress at one time, and also the manager of a small shipping line that ran from Weymouth, but I can’t be absolutely sure. I need some time to get my thoughts together and to try and remember the rough dates. Would that be okay?’
    ‘Of course. You can think about it and let me know when you’re ready. I’ll come back to get the details.’ Rae finished writing and handed over her card. She saw that Margaret had been watching her.
    ‘You’ve taken a lot of care over your appearance,’ the older woman said. ‘I have to congratulate you. One of our nephews is trying to be a woman. He’s not half as convincing as you. He’s called Andrea now.’
    ‘Is this relevant?’ Rae responded, irritated. ‘I’m not a he, and I haven’t ever truly been one. I’m a she , as your Andrea is. Maybe it’s time you digested that.’ How much longer would it take for people just to accept her and other women like her without the need to make some comment? It was getting infuriating. If this woman had someone transgender in her family, surely she should know that endless comments, no matter how well-meaning, aren’t welcome.
    ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just that Andrea struggles so much to fit in. And no matter how hard I try, I keep remembering the boy he was.’
    ‘Probably an unhappy boy,’ Rae replied. ‘Even though he would have tried desperately not to let it show, it would have been there, I know.’ She closed her notebook and put it in her bag. She looked at her watch. ‘Thanks for your help, and please get in touch if you remember anything else.’
    She stood up, turned and walked out of the room more quickly than usual. Had she been too sharp with Mrs Court? Well, it was too late now.
    What should she do next? She drove back to the police station to continue checking on the house’s history by phone. She had enough information now to get started.
    * * *
    Barry Marsh was back at Finch Cottage checking on the searches that were going on. Ground-penetrating radar had been brought in, but it had not shown any other bodies buried in the