She sighed and went to get Emma Hide from next door. Sebastian Montague-Roland was newly arrived from London and she wanted to meet him. His family had owned Allerdale for seven generations. The house had been built before the First World War with money from the British Empire. The first Montague-Roland was a Scot who pioneered a sand-proof locomotive engine in South Africa, invaluable to Cecil Rhodes’ mining kingdom. From there, he’d invested in shipping and the first jet engines, both lucrative trades after 1914. Clever deals and traditional Scottish frugality meant that by the depression of the thirties, the Montague-Rolands were able to ride the wave and emerge unscathed.

It was an unusual coupling – a scientist from the East End and a man of Montague-Roland’s connections – and Kelly was ruling nothing out. There was money to be made in science, and she wondered how far Sebastian’s investments had taken him into that world. All they knew at the moment was that George Murphy had been a family friend, who’d loved fishing and escaping the city. It was a long way to come for clean air, unless he had other connections to Cumbria, perhaps. A search of his background told them nothing new. He was divorced and had no surviving children. His fifteen-year-old daughter had died tragically from complications arising from drug addiction fifteen years ago: about the time George had started to work for Ravensword. He’d left no will, and a sizeable pension, so there was money to be had from his death. But for whom? She wanted to visit Ravensword herself right away, but that would have to wait. A phone call had confirmed that George had an impeccable history at the pharmaceutical giant, and that he was well liked there.

Allerdale House was remote, but they were still hoping for sightings of vehicles capable of removing the missing items. It would have taken more than one, as well as more than one pair of hands.

It was a pleasant drive to Derwent Water. Emma drove while Kelly updated her iPad and stole glances at the countryside and the lake. It was a serene lake, but busier than Ullswater and more accessible. She’d seen more of it this year than ever, thanks to Graeme’s sailing lessons. Which reminded her, she needed to call him. She dialled his number and he answered quickly.

‘Hi, Graeme, how are you doing?’

Emma remained quiet and listened to the conversation.

‘We have a name,’ Kelly told him. ‘George Murphy. He was staying at Allerdale House. I’m surprised no one saw him, he was there for a week.’

Graeme agreed that it was strange that no one had spotted the visitor, but pointed out that the estate was large enough for someone to remain there undetected. Kelly thanked him and hung up.

‘That’s odd,’ she said out loud.

Emma looked at her boss. ‘What, guv?’