Montague-Roland was immaculately dressed and, like the house itself, finely styled and richly adorned. He wore an expensive watch and his skin was tanned. His hair was greying at the temples and his teeth were straight and white. Kelly peered at his shoes, which were clearly hand-made. He walked into the house and Kelly and Emma followed him, looking up at the grand rafters. Light shafted in from every angle; the architecture was nothing short of genius. The floors were of highly polished wood, with elaborate heavy rugs scattered around; Kelly thought them to be Persian. The decor was sparse because the walls were mostly exposed, but the furniture and upholstery were lavish.

‘It’s a beautiful house,’ she said.

Montague-Roland turned around and flashed a smile. ‘Thank you. My grandfather had very good taste. Can I offer you tea?’

‘No thank you. We’d like to ask you some questions. I apologise in advance if you feel you’ve been over it a thousand times before.’

‘It’s only to be expected. Let’s go into Grandfather’s study.’

He led them through a hallway and they passed several uniforms checking off inventories. Kelly spotted two forensic officers chatting in a doorway and held up her hand in greeting. Cumbria wasn’t a large constabulary, and forensic officers were few and far between. She’d worked with both of them before. She paused as Emma went on ahead.

‘Anything?’ she asked.

‘The owner says nothing was touched in here, but we’re checking the rooms used by the deceased. We’re finishing up now. It’s surprisingly clean and tidy. We know the fire was used because there’re dead embers and a recent copy of the Gazette for kindling.’

Kelly thanked them and caught up. Mr Montague-Roland looked impatiently at his watch, appearing slightly miffed that she had made a detour. He was clearly a man who thought himself in charge.

The room they entered was panelled, with wooden cupboards, a desk and walls of books. It was like a study photographed for a high-end magazine, languishing in its perfection. Several computers sat on tables, switched off and dusty. There must be thousands of pounds’ worth of kit in this one room alone. Kelly couldn’t figure out why burglars would have targeted the boathouse and not the main house, given the obvious opulence of the property.

‘Please sit down.’ Sebastian sat behind the grand desk, looking every inch the heir to an empire. Kelly made a mental note to contact the solicitors for the estate to see who the trustee was.

‘How did you know George Murphy?’ she began, and Emma took out her notebook.

‘Straight to the point, eh?’ It was a cold response from a man whose property had been violated. Kelly said nothing.