‘How much is 1,000 crore?’ Gillard asked.

Claire shrugged, but the receptionist said: ‘A crore is ten million.’

The detective prodded at the calculator on his smartphone. ‘I think the answer is “lots”.’

‘Quite the ladies’ man,’ Claire said, as she flicked through another magazine, a couple of years old, and again found a well-thumbed article about Harry. This time it was about his charitable work, which involved sport for disabled people, and a photograph showed him in cricketing whites at the crease, bat ready while a wheelchair-bound youngster bowled a ball at him.

Once Morag returned, she led them off for a tour of the facility. The two-storey office complex led straight on to a large factory. There were many white-coated staff, some of whom stared at the guests as they were led up a flight of stairs and along a metal walkway which ran at head height above the conveyors and packing machines. She took them to the newest line, one making naan breads. She talked enthusiastically about the 200 breads a minute that they could stamp out, baked in fifty-five seconds under an overhead oven, and the spiral coolers to bring the cooked breads down to a suitable temperature for vacuum packing. It was only here that the detective saw predominantly male staff, wearing ear defenders against the racket of the machines.

Gillard paid little attention to what she was saying, instead trying to gauge how intensively worked the, primarily Asian, staff were. Was this a happy family or a sweatshop? There was no obvious evidence either way.

‘Except for the packing lines, most of our production staff have been with us for years. Grandmothers, mothers and daughters. Our samosa makers in Redhill, very skilled with their hands, are particularly precious to us. No machine can manage to turn and fold so neatly and so quickly as these ladies.’

‘How well do you know the family?’ Gillard asked, raising his voice above the machinery.

‘Very well. I’ve worked here for over a decade, working my way up from being a temporary production worker. I went to university with Harry, and we have remained good friends ever since. I have to say he’s devastated about this. I suggested he should take the whole week off, but then there are things that only he can do.’

‘Is that because of the auditors?’ Gillard asked.

‘Yes, though I think they won’t be starting now until next week.’ She led them on out of the packing hall and towards her office.

‘What about Mrs Roy herself? Did you like her?’ Claire asked.

‘She was my boss, and she could be very demanding. I respected her, and I could see what a terrific job she was doing, but we weren’t close. I don’t think she confided in many people.’ Morag showed them into the blessed quiet of her own office, and then asked a question which seem to matter to her. ‘Are you planning to interview Harry’s sisters, Prisha and Kiara?’

‘Yes,’ Gillard said.