He nodded. ‘Russell Fox. Part of a house party staying in the Lodge. They rented it to celebrate his fortieth birthday.’

‘Witnesses?’

He shook his head. ‘None. They reckon it happened early on Saturday morning when the rest of them were still asleep.’

‘How are they?’

‘All seem pretty shocked. Popular guy, no enemies to speak of.’

Clare considered this. ‘Could it have been an accident? Stray bullet from a grouse shoot?’

‘Definitely not. There’s not a shoot close enough. And SOCO reckon it was a rifle shot.’

‘Shit,’ Clare said. ‘I’m starting to not like the sound of this.’

‘Nope.’

Clare’s eyes turned to a white SOCO tent at the foot of the treetop walk. ‘That where it happened?’

Chris raised his gaze. ‘Up on the walk itself. Just about there.’ He indicated a stretch between two tall Scots pines.

Clare looked up, squinting against the sun. The walk was made up of several sections, the floor built in solid wood. The sides were more open, dark green netting stretched between the floor and stout wooden handrails. She put a hand up to shade her eyes from the sun but the walkway itself was obscured by the dense netting. Beyond SOCO’s tent she could see the steps leading up to one end of the walk, but foliage from the trees prevented her from seeing where it ended. ‘Actually up there?’ she said.

‘Yep.’

‘Did he fall?’

‘No. The sides are pretty secure. In fact when the rest of the party went to look for him, they didn’t realise he was up there until someone had the idea of climbing up to see if they could spot him in the grounds.’

Clare studied the walkway and the trees surrounding it. A white-suited figure stood on a small scissor-lift platform, examining the trees beyond the treetop walk, presumably the ballistics expert. ‘Any idea where the shot came from?’

Chris followed her gaze. ‘Not yet. But between them, the pathologist and the ballistics folk should have an idea of the trajectory.’

She turned and looked back at the Heras fencing and the security cameras. ‘Is all this usually here?’

‘No. Apparently the victim’s sister asked for it. Said she wanted to make sure they had a nice family time without press photographers.’

‘He’s that famous?’

‘Actually I think it’s her. Some TV celeb. Seems photos can go for tens of thousands, and she wasn’t having it. Not when it was her brother’s birthday.’

‘Ah. That explains the press pack at the gate. That it?’

He glanced over towards the house. ‘No shortage of money.’

‘Noted. Where are they, by the way? I presume you’ve moved them out of the house.’

He nodded. ‘They put up in a hotel last night and they’ve agreed to stay on so you can speak to them yourself.’

‘Thanks. That’s helpful.’ She stood thinking for a moment then said, ‘Next of kin?’