‘He was moving from restaurants into pubs?’

‘Technically, yes.’

Chris was looking in the windows now, shielding the sun with his hands.

‘He planned to put up 60 per cent of the capital,’ Natasha went on, ‘but he told me he’d be a sleeping partner. His contact would run the pubs. Russell would be an investor in name only. I looked into it for him,’ she said, ‘and it seemed a sound enough investment.’

There was a shout from Nita, and Chris ran round the back of the cottage. Clare followed him, walking briskly. ‘And the other investment?’

‘Ah, that one was a bit riskier. He wanted to invest in a media company.’

‘Clare,’ Chris called.

She broke into a run. ‘Which company?’ she asked Natasha, conscious she only had seconds.

There was a pause then Natasha said, ‘Odd name: It’s A Gas Productions. I think his brother-in-law was involved with it.’

‘Luke Gasparini?’ Clare said. She was round the back of the house now, Nita trying the door.

Chris was looking round and he darted across to a small wooden shed. He pulled back a bolt securing the door and stepped inside, reappearing moments later with a garden spade.

‘Yes, that’s him,’ Natasha said. ‘I did warn him against it. Family investments are rarely the product of clear thinking. But he was set on the idea.’

Chris was at the back door now and he forced the edge of the spade between the door and the frame. The door creaked and finally burst open and they rushed inside.

Clare, still in the garden said, ‘Ms Lynch, I have to go now but I will call again to discuss this in more detail.’

‘Of course.’

She was about to end the call then a thought struck her. ‘The other investment – the chain of pubs – who was Mr Fox’s contact? The person he planned to invest with?’

‘In here!’ Chris called.

Clare dashed in, past the broken door, following the sound of Chris’s voice. She moved into a small bedroom at the back of the cottage. It was a bright room, cheerfully decorated with yellow walls and floral curtains. There were watercolours dotted around and a traditional mantelpiece which had been painted a rich cream. It wasn’t a large room and was dominated by an oak-framed double bed. And, on top of the bed, fully clothed, her eyes closed, lay Gaby Fox.

Chris had his fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. He was shaking his head and then suddenly he said, ‘It’s there. Faint but it’s there.’ He turned to Gary. ‘Call an ambulance. Tell them east of Hazelton Walls – to look for our cars. And quickly.’

Nita moved to the bedside cabinet where a half empty glass of water stood next to a small cardboard box with a pharmacy label on the outside.

‘Don’t touch it,’ Clare warned.

‘Sorry?’ Natasha said.