‘Right, here goes. Elizabeth Sinclair was married to Harry Sinclair from the highly esteemed, not to mention wealthy, Sinclair family who own the great big fucking house up near the Con Point Hills. Elizabeth drowned in a lake on the estate while trying to rescue her dog.’

‘What else do you know?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Come on, Adam, you always know more than you let on. Did anything stand out as odd?’

‘No, nothing. It was a family tragedy. Simply an accident.’

‘So why has Elizabeth’s mother been running a media campaign to have the investigation into her daughter’s death reopened? She says it wasn’t an accident. Have you not seen her Twitter feed?’

‘Oh, you mean Sonia Lomas. She’s a fruitcake. She’s a mother who desperately doesn’t or can’t accept her daughter is dead.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Everyone knows it – she was like it before her daughter died and she’s got worse since.’ Adam was beginning to sound bored with the conversation.

‘What was she like before?’

‘Highly strung. Emotional. That’s what friends and family said anyway.’

Steph pushed on. ‘If you were convinced your daughter was murdered and no one believed you, wouldn’t that be enough to give you mental-health problems?’

‘My point exactly, especially if you were a bit that way inclined beforehand. Anyway, why the interest?’

‘I’m going up to Conmere Resort Centre to cover the reopening of the place since its major refurb.’

‘Ooh, get you. All expenses paid, I hope.’

‘Of course. Why do you think I left the Carlisle Post?’

‘If you want my advice, which you probably don’t, but I’m going to give it to you anyway,’ said Adam, his voice taking on a more serious tone, ‘you’ll be best off just sticking to the assignment and not concerning yourself with Elizabeth Sinclair’s death.’

‘That sounds more like a warning than a piece of advice,’ said Steph, doodling a lake surrounded by bulrushes on the notepad in front of her.

There was a significant pause before Adam answered. ‘Look, Steph, the Sinclairs are a powerful family. They know lots of people, influential people. It won’t do you or your career any favours if you come up here and start ruffling feathers about the death of one of their own.’

Steph gave a laugh, despite the seriousness of Adam’s speech. ‘And you must realise, as someone who once worked on a paper, I can’t leave something alone when there’s a whiff of a story.’

‘Honestly, Steph, there’s no story. Don’t you think I would have been on it if there was?’