Gemma stood her ground. ‘She told me she’s taking a few days off – compassionate leave. Her brother’s working – got some big commission to finish apparently, so he’ll be holed up in his workshop in Minstead Village. Just think how much intel I could get out of her if she’s at home alone for a few days. She trusts me, I know she does. She said before she’d only talk to me.’

‘Maybe,’ said Lincoln. ‘But first can you look at all the CCTV available from the day Ralph Allerton vanished? Let’s see if that throws anything up.’

Gemma had to avert her eyes in order not to throw Mavis a smug look. ‘Already done, boss. He’s not seen on camera coming down from his office that afternoon, but the cameras are only on the main staircase and external doors. He must have used the back staircase, the one the servants would have used, but Meredith Vincent said that wasn’t unusual – staff often use that one when the house is closed to the public. Cameras also picked up Meredith’s brother arriving on his bike at around eight-forty p.m., which tallies with her statement.’

‘What about interviews with all the staff working that day? Did anybody see Allerton leave?’

‘We haven’t done any other interviews yet. Of course we’d have done them straight away,’ Mavis said defensively, ‘if we’d known it was going to be a crime scene.’

If you’d realised it was a crime scene, you twat, thought Gemma, somewhat unfairly. There had been no reason at first to suspect that Allerton’s death was anything other than an accident.

‘So now that we know it is,’ said Lincoln, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, ‘I suggest you get back over there and do a search around the pond. Please tell me the pond was cordoned off in the golden hour?’

Mavis nodded, chastened. ‘Of course, boss. PC Khan here closed down the scene when he got there.’

Emad had opened his mouth to agree, nodding furiously, but Lincoln spoke first.

‘Well, that’s something at least. Get a team down there to do a thorough search of the area surrounding the pond again. If he was dumped, there should be footprints, tyre tracks, something. He was a big guy; he can’t have been that easy to transport. Mark, you go back and speak to the wife, tell her about these new developments.’

At the mention of tyre tracks, Gemma caught Emad glaring in an uncharacteristically confrontational way at Damian, who was studiously avoiding his eye. ‘There were wheelbarrow tracks,’ Emad blurted. ‘Deep ones, leading to the pond.’

‘Why the hell didn’t you put them in your report, then?’ Lincoln’s brows furrowed with irritation as he stabbed with a thick finger at the printout of Emad and Damian’s report about the scene.