‘Did Jamie say anything further about what he saw in the vineyard that made him hide?’

‘Detective,’ she said with an edge to her voice, ‘keeping your crime scenes to yourself might be your thing; keeping my client’s confidences is mine.’

She would learn the identity of the deceased shortly anyway. He turned to face her, gauging the impact of his words. ‘Constable Murphy identified her as Ava O’Brien.’

Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’.

‘Did you know her?’

Her eyes flicked away. ‘Not really. She ran the girls’ home that used to be over there.’ She pointed toward a two-metre-high hedge on the other side of the manor.

‘What was your connection to her?’

‘I didn’t have one.’

Her words rang hollow in Jake’s ears.

Striding up the hill, Murphy caught up with them as they reached the rear of the manor. ‘Should I stick around, or …?’

‘We need to go over the list of people from the campground,’ Jake said. ‘Look at their histories, and check none of them have left Dunton yet.’

‘I’m on it.’

‘And we’ll need to find any security camera footage in the area.’

‘Unlikely round here.’

‘Check anyway.’

Murphy continued around the manor to the front gate and back out to his patrol car, a used glove swinging from his back pocket.

‘Let’s go and talk to Mason, then,’ Ms Kelly said.

‘You’re staying?’

‘I can’t see why not.’

‘Now you know the identity of the person we found …’

‘I’m only doing what was asked of me by the person who signs my pay cheques. Same as you.’

Jake began to stride through the overgrown gardens of poorly-tended topiary and crumbling brick edges toward the front of the manor. Ms Kelly clutched his arm, ostensibly to steady herself on the slippery terrain. He could feel her fingers digging into his flesh. The moisture in the air worked to intensify her scent, the mingling odours of her perfume and hairspray distinctly artificial.

‘What can you tell me about Ava O’Brien?’

‘Nothing, really.’

‘When would you have last seen her?’

‘Not for, well … Not for years.’

‘Look.’ Jake tried a different tack. ‘This is a small town. People gossip. Can you think of anything that might help? Did Ava O’Brien upset anyone? Did she have any enemies?’

‘Are you saying someone killed her?’

‘You’re a cop’s daughter, you know how this goes.’

‘It’s not like people stumble over corpses every day here—it’s not Midsomer.’

As they walked around the sprawling building they passed between a glass-and-wood conservatory with peeling paint on one side and rusted tools in unkempt garden beds on the other. The slowly crumbling facade—part sandstone and part brick—indicated a number of extensions and scant maintenance over the years. Ms Kelly jumped at a burst of mocking laughter from a riot of kookaburras perched nearby.

‘Is there anything you can offer to help?’ Jake pressed.

‘Only a word of advice.’

‘Yes?’

‘You might want to spend a little more time on personal grooming.’