Ted Wallis had bought a town house in Keswick to be nearer to his daughter. He’d told her that Carlisle wasn’t particularly offensive as cities went, but he’d never had a reason to live there, apart from his work at the mortuary in the bowels of the university hospital. It was convenient and logical, like most of his life had been. Now, at almost seventy, he’d begun to think about what might make him happy, and it was a new experience. He confided his innermost thoughts to Kelly, and she enjoyed listening. It was a new and intimate experience, and she wondered if he experienced it with his other daughters.

He’d told her that he wanted to live inside the National Park, close to Kelly and the memory of her mother, Wendy. The house was a charming stone cottage-like dwelling, built for the well-to-do during the time of the booming pencil industry. Cumbrian lead was the finest in the country, but the mines, like all the others, had ceased to trade decades ago, before Ted was even born. Greenside lead mine was on one of the descent routes from Helvellyn, and Kelly had walked past it many times, peering into the windows of the abandoned sheds along the Glenridding Beck, which was popular with gorge walkers and made for a refreshing dip after a long hike. Ted told her that the Helvellyn range was beyond him now, but she disagreed, vowing to get him up there one of these days.

The house’s most valuable feature was the off-road parking, and Kelly pulled in to the space and tapped on the door. It was open, and she went inside. Ted was waiting for her and they embraced. She’d accompany him alone today, leaving her team back at Eden House to work on the identity of the dead man. There was no reason for her to witness the autopsy – it was quite obvious that the bloke had died from a gunshot wound to his head – but this was an opportunity to see Ted at work, and learn from him, as well as to catch up.

The fact that she had believed for forty years that her father was John Porter was something Kelly didn’t dwell on. After her mother’s death, she had decided that life was too short to squander on what-ifs and wherefores. When she’d first found out about Wendy’s illicit affair with the dashing pathologist, she’d acted like a petulant toddler. But after some soul-searching, she had grown out of the straitjacket of resentment and self-pity and now spent as much time with Ted as she could.