‘Very funny. They’re the ones who started the torture – they had a specially built tower for it, huge, more than twenty metres high. It was filled with wheels and cogs and things, and at the bottom, a pile of ashes. They would push a blasphemer into it – because that’s what got you the death penalty back in those days. Now, being trapped in a room full of dormant ashes is not going to do much to hurt you, so they’d turn the wheels and these giant cogs would start stirring the ash into the air. The criminal would suffocate to death.’

‘Lucy told me that the first victims were an elderly couple from Brisbane? She looked them up. You’re saying that happened to them?’

‘She’s right. And, well, not really. Obviously there’s not a three-storey torture tower hidden up here somewhere and, anyway, Green Boots seems to have been strangled.’ Sofia picked up a screwdriver from a nearby bench and used it to push down Green Boots’ collar for a better view. ‘With the density of the ash on his cheeks, and the depth of the wound in his neck, I’d say he had a bag with ash pulled over his head, tied tightly, and then removed post-mortem.’

‘The snow looked like someone had run back and forth in a small area,’ I said.

‘Exactly. Lack of oxygen disorientates you very quickly – he would have been trying to take the bag off, likely panicking. I can picture him frantically running in circles.’

‘That’s not so medieval.’ Erin realised she’d said it too sharply and raised her hands in apology. ‘I’m not trying to be sarcastic, sorry – I’m interested. I’m just thinking that anyone can strangle someone, put a bag over their head. Why bother with the ash?’

‘I agree. I’m guessing the killer was in a pinch, rushed. Maybe by daylight coming on. Maybe another resort guest interrupted them. With that Brisbane couple, the killer took their time. I told you it wasn’t a torture tower, but it was, sort of, a modern incarnation of one. They were found locked in their car, in their garage, their hands zip-tied to the steering wheel. There were indentations on the roof, as if someone had stood on it, and a leaf-blower discarded on the floor. The killer would have poured the ash in through the sunroof and stuck the leaf-blower down afterwards to stir it up. It was the same with the lady who came through our ER. Zip-tied, in a locked toilet with the window and fan taped shut, except for something to put the blower through. That’s the way they like to do it. Slowly. This is all conjecture, obviously.’

‘From a podcast,’ Erin affirmed.

‘From a podcast.’