She hit him playfully. She parked the car in front of the massive double-fronted entrance, which was draped in the leftovers of what must be dramatically impressive creepers and climbers in the spring and summer. Even the gravel looked well-tended. They got out and examined the place. It was like turning up to a high class wedding when one nominally knew the bride and groom, but felt out of place.

One of the giant oak doors opened and a small woman appeared, wringing her hands. She looked all of her sixty years, wearing a knitted cardigan and looking as though butter wouldn’t melt, like someone’s granny. She was slight, with a full face of make-up and an old-fashioned pinafore tied around her waist. She didn’t look like the type to own a palatial pad like this. It was quite a leap from English teacher to landowner.

Emma held out her hand and greeted the woman. Her hands were freezing and her handshake was stilted, but Emma put it down to shock. Dan introduced himself but kept in the background. Always on the lookout for information, but with an open mind, both coppers were sussing her out, but they equally got the impression that they were being assessed too. Kelly had given them specific instructions not to get swept away by the media view of Bartholomew Kennedy-Craig, in other words: a sleazebag. They were to gather particulars pertinent to their inquiries regarding the start of the helicopter’s journey, as well as the nature of the relationship between the two men. Unfortunately, humans judged as a matter of course and there was a distinct frostiness to the tiny woman, after they’d accounted for the grief, and both coppers felt it. It was of note because it was unnecessary.

They were shown inside. The place smelled of cleaning products.

The enormous doors were shut behind them and Emma wondered if there was a side door which would have been less formal. Before either detective could kick off any questions to set the tone, Nellie had disappeared and Dan and Emma quickly followed her so they didn’t lose her. They walked though pristine hallways, decorated richly and adorned with fresh flowers, and past lots of closed doors, until they came to a wide open kitchen. Dan tried a few door handles but they were locked.

In the kitchen, they were told they could sit at the table and Nellie plonked herself down too, wrapping her knitted cardigan around her body tightly. Her well-painted lips remained tight and Emma decided to jump right in.

‘It’s terrible news about Mr Kennedy-Craig, Nellie. You must be in shock. There must be numerous staff members for this huge place of yours, have they all been informed? I mean, those who were working over the last three weeks, while he was here.’

‘Just me,’ she said. Far too quickly.