Maggie glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "It's lunchtime, I'm hungry, and there's the pub. What do you reckon, Julie?"

"Why not? It'll save cooking when we get back."

The Boars Head car park was empty. Maggie parked close to the road. She shut the car door firmly before using the remote locking. "The locals will wonder why there's a police car here. I bet those who see it will reduce their speed as they search for the speed trap."

The exterior appearance gave the impression that it had existed since time began. Inside, it was no different. They entered the Saloon Bar. Tradition wooden beams formed the ceiling. The adze marks showing they were once part of a sailing vessel were plain to see.

A short, overweight man placed his hands flat on the highly polished bar. "Afternoon, ladies. What can I get you?"

"Two questions," said Maggie. "Can you point us towards Devon Court? Secondly, what's on the menu?"

"As you are the police, is Mrs Sinclair in trouble?"

"Not at all. We need her to sign a few forms, that's all."

"She is a sweet old bird but has never been the same since Albert, her old man, died. She comes here every night, has one port and lemon and leaves. Chicken and chips in the basket is the best I can do."

Maggie peered at him quizzically. "Anything else?

He shrugged. "Not until my order is delivered from Tesco.

"Two chicken and chips, please and two halves of apple cider.

"It'll be fifteen minutes."

"And Devon Court?"

With a wry smile, he pointed. "Across the road. You can't miss it. Large house with mock Tudor woodwork."

"Are you still studying for your sergeant's exam," asked Maggie.

"It's easier since I moved in with you. I read something every night, but it doesn't stick in my brain."

Maggie smiled. "Don't kick yourself. It takes time."

"Two chicken and chips. Two halves of cider."

Maggie handed him a twenty-pound note. "Thanks. Looks good."

"Enjoy. I'll bring your change over."

Three older men entered and sat in the far corner.

"The usual," said the barman.

They nodded.

With their meal finished and glasses empty, Maggie retrieved her change and the receipt. "Ready."

"Must pay a visit. Join you in the car park."

"No problem."

Maggie grinned as several vehicles slowed, seeing the police car. "Sorry, but you know how it is," said Julie.

"Every month, I dread its arrival. Maggie glanced across the road. Devon Court." Grabbing her file from the back seat, they crossed the road.

The main door opened as they stood on the step.

"Can I help you," asked a dark-haired woman in a floral dress half covered by a pink apron.

Maggie appeared to read from her file. "Mrs Doreen Sinclair."

"I am."

Maggie held up her warrant card. "Sergeant Bell and Constable Oddman. We need to ask you a few questions and complete forms concerning your late husband. Can we come in?"

"My husband died over eight years ago. Can you tell me what the problem is about?"

"His burial," said Julie.

"You'd better come in and tell me. The neighbours will know you are here.

They followed her along a spotless hall and into a kitchen diner at the rear of the house.

"I saw you leave the pub, but would you like a drink?"

"May we sit. This may take a little time. Maggie waited for a response.

"Of course, you can. I'll sit opposite so I can hear you. Can you tell me what this is all about"?

"I' can give you an outline. From our investigations the night before your husband's burial, we believe something was dumped into the grave. His internment concealed the crime.

Doreen tilted her head to the side before speaking. "Is it another body?"

"Why would you think it was a body."

"Young lady, have you seen the cost of a funeral? "Dump a body the night before could save you a lot of money."

Maggie smiled; Doreen must have been attractive in her prime, and she spoke well. "I'll get to the point. We, the police, must remove your husband's coffin to check if our suspicions are correct. This will, of course, be undertaken with respect and by professionals. The Vicar will conduct a small ceremony during the reinternment process."

"Paul won't mind, and he's not able to complain. To be honest, he's no longer there. Whatever you may call it, the soul has gone wherever they go. The thought of her husband brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes. She steadied herself as she lifted her head. "guess you are here to obtain my permission."

Maggie nodded as she removed the forms from her bag. "Why don't you sit, and we can start. There are many questions, but numbers nine and ten require your signature. I have to ask, do you have any children?"

"Our one child was stillborn. After a medical examination, we were told I could never have a child. We became foster parents, and please don't ask me how many young [people passed through this house. We still see many of them. They bring their families to see Auntie Doreen. I'm glad because it's what they want to do. Paul and I never demanded anything from them and tried our best to improve their lives." She wiped her eyes with a tissue. "I honestly believe we did." She paused, "Sorry, how it was sometimes makes me overemotional. Right, can we start with the questions?"

Maggie sat at the table, her clipboard open and read each question.

Doreen answered, and Julie completed the forms.

Thirty minutes later, Maggie checked the forms. "Perfect. There are other parts, but the vicar and the local health and safety officer have to sign them. I will send you a completed copy of the application in the post. Before I leave, do you have any questions? You have my card. Please contact me if you are unsure about anything."

On leaving the house, Julie said, "If she could have found a reason for us to stay, she would have. A lovely person but lonely."

"Did you notice her house is spotless?"

"She has nothing else to do. W without her husband or a family, life is meaningless. I'm going to buy her a bunch of flowers."

"I'll go halves with you," said Maggie.

Maggie glanced at her watch. The office would be closed when they returned and parked the car. Tomorrow, she would ring Ian Spence and ask him to add his signature to the forms at the station. Once completed, she intended to visit the local council offices.

"What's the matter, Julie? You're quieter than usual."

"Thinking about Mrs Sinclair and wondering."

"About what."

"The unanswerable question. What's it all about? We're born, live and die. Why? My father always told me that if you don't know where you're coming from, you can never know where you're going."

Maggie shrugged. "Is he referring to slavery or before?"

"Before. Dad believes we originated in Eswatini, captured by one of the tribes and sold to black slave traders who sold us for transportation. I'm happy with Trinidad as my homeland."

"You never know, Julie, you might have been royalty."

"Where do you originate."

"I've discovered I'm of pure Anglo-Saxon descent west country from farmers. Not exactly exciting."

"Why didn't you continue researching your ancestry?"

I haven't a clue."

"Do you believe in life after?"

"Only after a good night out and I have a hangover.