‘Nothing much, I don’t think,’ Harry shrugged. ‘Been a housewife since she got married from what I can tell.’

‘Do you mind if I speak to her instead of you? I’ll say I’m calling about the obituary. I can file you everything you need.’

Obituaries were often the only section of the newspaper that some people didn’t mind speaking to, for hours sometimes.

‘Course not,’ said Harry.

‘Thanks.’

‘That all?’

‘Yes, brilliant.’

Harry half-bowed away. He didn’t know they had been out on Paxos when Cavendish died.

And so Sir William Cavendish’s death would merit a polite obituary. Distinguished. Respected. At his home in Greece.

‘It’s the daughter,’ Casey told the investigations room. ‘Down in Devon. I bet that’s how it all started.’

‘How do you know?’ Hessa still sounded shivery. She had her hands tucked into her sleeves, and was chewing on a strand of hair.

‘A hunch,’ admitted Casey. ‘She looks young in her wedding photographs, but she didn’t have children until her very late thirties. She wasn’t some hectic business type either. So what was she doing during all that time?’

They contemplated it.

‘Make the call,’ Miranda decided. ‘But keep it gentle for now.’

Casey was charm personified on the telephone to Vivienne Hargreaves.

Sorry to bother you, at a time like this.

Not at all, I want people to know about his life. His achievements.

People are flattered – in all walks of life – to be asked for their opinion, or their story. It is a very human urge, the record of accomplishments chipped into the walls of the cave.

People want to tell their story, Ross had told Casey early on. Just give them the chance. Hold up the mirror.

In a leisurely manner, Casey and Vivienne ran over the biographical details, and gradually Casey edged the conversation round.

‘It must have been fascinating for you, growing up in all those places? But difficult too, I imagine. Never being in the same place for long.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Vivienne. ‘But my parents were so good at making a place feel like home. My brother and I were sent to England, for school. I missed my parents very, very much.’

‘And did you visit him often in Greece? Since he retired?’

‘The children love it out there.’ Vivienne’s voice was light, with an echo of boarding school. ‘Paxos is always a bit chaotic, but it is such a special place. All our friends go out there too, of course.’

‘It sounds wonderful.’

‘He always loved walking along those cliffs. But the paths are terribly crumbly. He must have just missed his footing,’ Vivienne said firmly.

‘Of course,’ said Casey. ‘Did you visit the other places he was sent?’

‘Some of them, yes. Cairo, once or twice. Delhi. Robin and I went on the triangle around Agra and Jaipur not long after we were married. Daddy always enjoyed showing us new places.’

‘And Dhaka?’