Martineau thought for a moment and really there was only one place that he wanted to go, especially during daylight hours. “Absolutely. Perhaps we could pay a little visit to where the body was found, if it’s not too much trouble,” said Martineau, picking up his stick and lifting himself up.
They took the steady thirty minute drive out to Eastham Woods and to the scene of the murder, parking the car out on the main road, next to a landing stage that was now a viewing platform which gave them a magnificent view of the length and breadth of the River Mersey. The rain of the past few days had muddied the walking path and the ground, as they started their journey into the woods, was like a quagmire. At this time of the year, the woods had a Grimm Fairy Tale quality to them; dark, brooding and
