‘I thought you said it was straightforward suicide? He doesn’t have to be involved, so.’

‘But there is a connection to Charlie; Hugh Daneman was the lover of his uncle many years ago.’

‘Well, isn’t that just sheer coincidence? Norfolk being such a small place and all?’

‘Maybe, but I do need to follow it up. The mother of Daneman’s dead lover is still alive. She’s apparently very fragile, but maybe she can shed some light on what happened back then. And how it might be tied in to now.’

As Patrick turned into the school, Jazz could see the yellow police tape surrounding Fleat House.

‘Right, let’s go,’ she said, and stepped out of the car. Before Jazz had taken more than a couple of steps, the headmaster was at her side.

‘Thank God you are here! All hell has broken loose! The place is crawling with coppers, the boys are wondering what’s going on and it’s only a matter of time before they are on their mobiles to their parents. I know you’ll need to close the school, evacuate the premises, then there’s the press . . . My God, it’ll finish us!’

Robert Jones was beside himself.

‘I understand your panic, Headmaster. And it’s not a good scenario,’ Jazz agreed. ‘We’ll obviously need to talk, but first let me go and take a look at the crime scene, get an overview of what exactly has happened. This is DCI Coughlin, who’s here to help us sort this situation out as fast as we can. Do you want to come across with us to Fleat House, Headmaster, or would you prefer to wait in your office?’

The head looked as though he was soon to keel over. ‘No, no. I’ll wait for you in my office.’ Then he turned tail and almost ran back to the sanctuary of the main school building.

Jazz and Patrick walked across Chapel Lawn, still covered in heaps of melting snow.

DS Roland was waiting for them at the entrance of Fleat House, looking self-important.

‘My men have sealed off the building and no one has been allowed in since we were called to the incident. The boys have been evacuated and only Mr Frederiks, the caretaker who found him and your DS Miles are waiting for you in Frederiks’s study.’

‘Thank you, Roland,’ Jazz nodded. ‘Any news on Millar?’

‘Nothing, Ma’am. He seems to have vanished.’

‘DCI Coughlin.’ Patrick reached out his hand to DS Roland, who shook it nervously. ‘Put every spare officer on it, Roland. We need to find him.’

Jazz led Patrick along the corridor to the study.

Miles, Sebastian Frederiks and an older man in a brown boiler suit were sitting tensely in the room.

‘Morning, everyone,’ said Jazz, then introduced Patrick to the caretaker and Frederiks.

‘So, you found the body, Mr, er . . .?’ asked Jazz.

‘Bob Gilkes. Yes. There were a burst pipe and the boiler went off. I had to go down there to restart it, smelled something funny and . . .’ The man swallowed. ‘That’s when I found it . . . him.’