Ridley chipped in. “Sure. But ‘I never saw anything’ isn’t that hard to remember.”

Anik looked disappointed in himself. He needed patting on the head every now and then, and Ridley wasn’t really a “patter.” Ridley just looked back at Jack, indicating that he should carry on.

“Neither Ester nor Connie is living in a manner that suggests they’ve got thirty million lying around. Their bank accounts show nothing unusual, in fact Connie goes overdrawn at least once every month. Ester’s slightly better off, but that’s because the money she spends is Geoffrey’s. I think the original investigation was right to eliminate them as suspects.”

Anik’s mobile rang and he stepped to the side of the room to take the call.

Jack continued, “I’ll still track down and interview Julia Lawson and Angela Dunn, but I’d be surprised if they gave me anything different.”

Anik bounced to the front of the room.

“Sir!” He beamed. “I expanded the Missing Persons search, like you said, and my mate at Paddington Green nick just called. A lady by the name of Susan Withey reported her estranged husband missing two days ago.” Jack went to his desk to examine his notes as Anik continued, “Mike Withey is the same height and build as our murder victim from Rose Cottage. And he’s an ex-copper from this station.”

Ridley unfolded his arms quickly. “Anik, Jack and Laura. My office.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels. On his way across the room, Jack got out his mobile and started to search through all the notes connected to this investigation so far.

“Anik,” Ridley said calmly, once they were all assembled, “we need to be mindful of those around us when announcing information as potentially volatile as ‘the corpse in our mortuary might be that of an ex-copper from this station.’ Do you know when Mike retired? Do you even know if he retired? Or was he sacked? Did he work with any one of those officers out there?”

Anik understood his mistake. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Tell me what you’ve got.”

“That was pretty much it, sir. My mate’s sending me all the details now.”

Anik got out his mobile, opened his emails and refreshed the app. At the same time, Jack was rifling through his own mobile, trying to find the notes he needed.

“I’ve heard the name, sir,” Jack mumbled. “Mike Withey’s already connected to this case somehow, I just can’t . . . Bear with me . . .”

Anik was desperate for his email to come through before Jack could steal his moment of glory, willing the page to refresh.

“Ah, right,” Jack said finally. “Mike Withey is the son of Audrey Withey and the brother of Shirley Miller, the model shot dead during a diamond raid in ’84. That raid was planned and carried out by Harry Rawlins, husband of Dolly Rawlins, who bought The Grange back in ’95.”

Ridley rocked back in his black leather ergonomic chair and rubbed his eyes. Jack and Anik, both with mobiles in hand, looked at each other. Then at Laura. They all waited for Ridley to finish thinking whatever he was thinking.