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door as Gemma and Dawn got up to follow him.

Chapter Nine
    Sheldon’s hands gripped the wheel as he drove towards Billy Privett’s house. The tight streets of the town centre turned into winding lanes that headed towards the moors. Drystone walls lined the way ahead, although they were down to untidy piles of rock in places, so that the roads opened straight onto open moorland, bleak and wild, with sheep grazing up to the tarmac, the grey dots of stone farmhouses peppering the views.
    He had left Jim Kelly, the reporter, at the station, giving a statement about how Billy Privett’s face was delivered to him, although it was really to keep him out of the way.
    Sheldon turned into a narrow lane and felt his tyres slide on some mud thrown up by a tractor. The road bumped and dropped towards a small cluster of houses hidden deep in a valley. Except that one of the houses stood out from the rest.
    ‘Is that Billy’s house ahead?’ Tracey said.
    Sheldon nodded. ‘Yes,’ was all he said. His jaw clenched when he got a good view of it.
    The house was a large block of red brick that sprawled over two plots that had once been home to two bungalows. The house was double-fronted, with large pillars between them that supported a tiled porch, reached by the long stretch of the driveway.
    Billy Privett had bought the house when his lottery numbers came in, and since then he had put his own mark on it, with games rooms and a bar, although Sheldon didn’t see them as any kind of improvement.
    Tracey looked at the house as Sheldon pulled up at the kerb.
    ‘I was just thinking that he was a lucky bastard, but then I remembered that he is now in the mortuary,’ Tracey said.
    Sheldon climbed out of the car. ‘He still had more luck than he deserved,’ he said, and then set off for the gate, Tracey catching up with him. He pressed the intercom. No one answered for a while, and Tracey eyed up the fence, as if seeing whether she could scale it. Sheldon touched her on the arm.
    ‘Privett has dogs,’ he said. ‘And they’ll be hungry by now.’
    Tracey rolled her eyes. ‘I should have guessed that.’
    Sheldon jabbed at the button, more impatient this time. He was about to turn back to his car when a voice came through the speaker.
    ‘Hello?’ It was a woman’s voice, timid and quiet.
    ‘It’s the police,’ he said. ‘We need to come in.’
    There was a pause, and then, ‘Billy isn’t here.’
    ‘I know. That’s why we need to come in. Could you open the gates please.’
    Another pause followed, and then there was a buzz as the gates began to creep open. They exchanged glances and then began the slow walk along the driveway, as the house loomed ahead of them.
    ‘Who was that, his sister?’ Tracey said.
    ‘He didn’t have one.’
    ‘But what about his family?’ Tracey said. ‘Shouldn’t we be speaking to them first?’
    Sheldon shook his head. ‘His mother died ten years ago. His father fell out with him when Billy wouldn’t spend the money on him. The family liaison officer is trying to find him. We’ll leave the hand-holding to her.’
    The door opened before they got there and a woman appeared, no older than twenty, with her hair light and short, swept behind her ears. Her arms were folded across her chest, although her tight blue shorts and a cropped vest top took away any pretence at modesty. Her breasts jutted out, her nipples visible through the cloth.
    ‘I’m Christina,’ she said. ‘I’m Billy’s housekeeper.’
    Sheldon guessed that it wasn’t her skills with a duster that got her the job.
    ‘Is there anyone else here?’ Sheldon asked.
    ‘No, just me,’ she said. ‘There was supposed to be a party last night, but when Billy didn’t come home, everyone went.’
    ‘How long have you been working for Billy?’
    She paused, as if she had to work it out, and then said, ‘Around a year now.’
    Since just after Alice Kenyon died, Sheldon thought, although he was surprised he didn’t know this.