Back at the Talmer’s house that evening, I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the bed. To be honest, I was plain tired.

But I knew I would have to take a tip from Bert Viljoen and adopt the Sherlock Holmes approach. With a groan, I sat up and reached out for the documents which the Belgian had given me.

Going by the postmarks, the last letter sent by ‘Erbert to Amanda had been on May 12th. Two days later, the Mudshires had been relieved from the trenches and sent back for a three-day rest prior to an intensive week-long period of training for their part in the Battle of Messines Ridge.

Which would mean that the happy couple could have snatched a few hours together at one or more times during those three-days.

And then she was murdered. For no apparent reason.

By Mid-August of the same year, Bertie McCallion had become convinced that the man responsible was 2nd Lt. Hartley.

Motive? None that I could think of.

Could it be that shell shock had driven him over the edge into homicidal madness? It was possible I suppose.

But what opportunity would a well-to-do young gentleman officer have to meet a woman who was essentially a bar-maid in a squaddies’ pub?

And then the bulb lit up in my head.

Amanda took in sewing for officers. And I was ready to bet that Hartley was no good with a needle and thread.

Maybe I should buy myself a deerstalker.