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lottery ticket.’
    Hillary nodded. ‘So the motive wasn’t robbery,’ she stated simply. She glanced around, shivering slightly as she did so. A damp autumn breeze could be felt penetrating the gaps in the corrugated iron walls and high, arched ceiling. Despite the steam rising from the many cattle, it felt unnaturally cold. The thud of hoofs and the shuffling of large, four-legged bodies, for some reason made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.
    There was something primitive about this particular scene of death that set off superstitious nerves she never even suspected that she had. Perhaps it was because of the bridal outfit the victim was wearing. Or the fact that she’d been strangled. Whatever it was, Hillary felt as if she’d wanderedinto some sort of bizarre Grimm’s fairy-tale: The Beautiful Bride, Sacrificed in the Cow Byre .
    ‘All right, let’s get cracking,’ she said sharply, more to reprimand herself than anyone else. ‘Tommy, Janine, start with the interviews up at the farm. Call out some local help,’ she put in, before Janine could start complaining. ‘It sounds like they’ve got quite a crowd up there. Find me a local bobby, someone who knows the people and the area – I want a word. Doc, you’d better do what’s necessary. I think I can hear SOCO arriving. We’ll want to clear the place for them. Frank, find the farmer, or cowman, or whoever’s responsible for this barn and find out the routine.’
    Frank snorted. ‘What’s to know? There won’t be any security around here – who’s going to want steal cows? This ain’t “Bonanza”.’
    She shot him a look, and he muttered something about a similarity between cows and senior women police officers, and shuffled off. As he did so, he kicked at the metal railings of one of the stalls, sending the harmless animal behind it jumping hysterically to the back. The whole barn boomed like the inside of a gong as it hit the side of the wall, the reverberation making everyone jump.
    ‘Somebody ought to report you to the RSPCA, you wanker,’ someone called out, but Frank Ross could be selectively deaf when he chose.
    Hillary glanced across at Janine, who was busy sorting out witness statement forms. ‘Anything else before I lose you?’ Hillary asked, without much hope. She doubted Janine could have got here more than ten minutes before herself.
    ‘Boss,’ Janine muttered, the corner of one form gripped between her teeth as she rearranged others on top of her clipboard . She spat it out.
    ‘The vic’s name is Julia Reynolds, twenty years old, lived with her parents in Kirtlington. She was a guest of a guest at the party. She was found by the farmer’s son, one Michael Wallis, and his girlfriend … er …’ – she squinted at her notebook shorthand – ‘Jenny Porter, and they ran back to thehouse to call it in. They’re outside, in one of the cars. I think that’s about it.’
    Hillary nodded. She didn’t envy Janine and Tommy their night of interviews. The guests would soon been clamouring to be let home to their beds.
    ‘Oh and Tommy,’ Hillary called, making the young DC hurry back expectantly. ‘Gather up any cameras and film taken at the party and get the police lab to print them off. You never know your luck.’
    Tommy nodded, jotting down the reminder in his notebook.
    Hillary, seeing the first of the SOCO team arrive, crouched down beside Steven Partridge. ‘Skin under the fingernails?’ she prompted.
    He held up one of the bride’s hands in his gloved own, examining the pearl-pink painted nails judiciously. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. You don’t have someone’s hands around your throat, strangling the life out of you, without putting up a struggle.’
    Hillary grunted. That wasn’t always the case, but she wasn’t about to argue semantics now. She glanced around, and shivered again. ‘Why would a beautiful young party guest want to come out here to this filthy, smelly hole?’
    The doc grinned.