‘The agency have been on the phone again. They want to send the cleaners in. The woman who phoned said they’ve bookings right through to the end of October.’

Clare looked at him. ‘Out of the question. We maybe can’t keep Gaby and co in that hotel but the Lodge itself is still a crime scene. Surely they realise that?’

‘It’s probably the owners making a fuss.’

‘That’s a good point.’ Clare was silent for a moment. ‘Who are the owners? I mean whoever shot Russell Fox knew where to go for a clear view of the treetop walk. And it’s not like he’d have been able to wander all over, looking for the best spot. There was a house party in full swing.’

‘You’re thinking it’s someone who knew the house?’

‘Could be. Can you find out who owns it? And when you’ve done that, get every spare body onto checking anyone with precons for firearms offences. Start with a fifty-mile radius of the Lodge.’

As Chris went off to telephone the rentals agency Clare’s phone began to ring. Raymond from SOCO.

‘Your gun cartridge,’ he said. ‘Got a result.’

Clare moved to the nearest desk and sat down. ‘Go on,’ she said, picking up a pen.

‘We were pretty lucky,’ he said. ‘It landed in a section of guttering sheltered by the chimney stack. So it didn’t get wet when it rained the other night.’

‘And?’

‘DNA.’

‘On the system?’ She held her breath waiting to hear if it was Zac’s.

‘Sorry, Clare. There is a clear profile but it’s not on the database.’

Clare’s heart sank. ‘Not even Zac Buchanan?’

‘Definitely not Zac’s. And I can tell you it’s not a relative of the deceased.’

She sat back and exhaled. ‘So, no clues at all then?’

‘Only that it’s male. Sorry.’

She thanked Raymond and ended the call, mulling this over.

‘Agency phoning me back with the owners’ details,’ Chris said, cutting across her thoughts. ‘The property manager was in a meeting.’

‘Never mind that,’ Clare said, ‘I’ve just spoken to Raymond,’ and she related the gist of the phone conversation.

‘So our gunman isn’t known to us.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Not sure where that leaves us.’

Clare got to her feet. ‘Nor me, Chris. Come on, we’d better let Gaby know before she leaves.’

Chapter 26

A black Range Rover was parked near the front door of the hotel, the tailgate standing open. Eamon Ferry appeared as Clare drew into a parking space opposite. He was carrying an overnight bag and he waited for them to approach.

‘Any news, Inspector?’ he asked. His tone was smooth, the smile fixed.

Clare ignored this. ‘If you could let Ms Fox know we’re here.’