‘You do everything? Cooking, cleaning, bed-changing, entertaining, gardening, admin, and the like?’ Emma asked.

Nellie nodded.

‘Fair enough, keeps costs down, I suppose.’ Emma smiled, but it wasn’t reciprocated. ‘Let’s start at the beginning. We’re investigating the cause of the crash, and we’d like to get a picture of Mr Kennedy-Craig’s last few days. Lord Reilly, as I’m sure you’re aware, is currently in a critical condition in hospital. Was he a guest here?’

‘He might have been, I don’t pry into the chief’s business,’ Nellie said.

‘The chief?’

‘It’s what I called Bart.’ Nellie looked down at her hands and Emma was touched by the affection.

‘Did you see this man?’ Emma asked, showing her a photo of Lord Reilly.

‘No.’

‘Can you show us where the CCTV cameras feed into? We’d like to check them.’

‘Bart set those up.’

‘You don’t know where they are?’

‘No.’

‘Right, who arranged the helicopter?’

‘The chief.’ Nellie looked down again.

‘You were close?’ Emma asked.

‘He paid my wages, as his housekeeper, and he doesn’t – didn’t – like the word “boss”. Tea?’ Nellie got up and busied herself at the range, fiddling with cups and taking milk out of the fridge. Dan and Emma stared at one another.

‘With respect, did you need the money?’ Emma asked.

‘It wasn’t about the money. What I meant was that I respected him as the chief around here, that’s all,’ Nellie said.

Emma was confused. ‘But you own this place?’

‘So? I need a little help with the business side of things, that’s all. Bart helped. I was left this place by my papa when he passed. I was a school teacher,’ she laughed. ‘I don’t know what to do with a place like this.’

‘Fair enough. So, he stayed here on his own for three weeks, and then chartered a private helicopter, and at some point must have invited Lord Reilly?’

‘Must have.’

‘Did you meet the pilots? Make them a cuppa?’ Dan asked.

Nellie shook her head.

‘Can we take a look around?’ Emma asked.

‘Have you got a warrant?’

‘Erm, not right now…’

‘No, then. The chief is a very private man. Was a very private man. Sorry, I…’ Nellie got a tissue out of her skirt pocket and wiped her eyes. She set a tray down on the kitchen table and poured three cups.

‘I appreciate he was the only visitor here for some time, but it’s your property, Nellie, you get to say if we have a look around or not.’

‘And I’ve said no,’ she said forcefully, in between sniffs. She placed three cups on saucers and tea spilled over the edges. Dan took his gratefully and sipped, watching Nellie closely. Emma knew he was thinking that this woman was a loon; she was as uptight as a coiled spring, displaying more irritation than bereavement.