Jazz walked across the hall and opened the kitchen door. A pale Angelina was sat at the kitchen table, leafing listlessly through an interiors magazine. She stood up as Jazz came in, eyes bright with expectation. ‘Have you found him, Inspector Hunter?’

Jazz nodded slowly. ‘Sit down, Mrs Millar.’

Angelina searched Jazz’s face for reassurance. When she could find none, fear flashed into her eyes. ‘He’s okay, isn’t he? Please tell me he is? Has he had an accident in that dreadful snow? I knew something had happened to him, I knew it! Where is he? Oh God, Oh God!’

Jazz gently eased Angelina into the chair, then pulled one out for herself and sat close to her. She put her hands on top of Angelina’s. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Millar, there is no easy way to tell you, I’m afraid, but Julian is dead.’

‘Dead? Dead? He can’t be dead!’ Angelina shook her head. ‘No, he can’t be . . .’

She was silent as she studied Jazz’s face again. Then, as realisation began to sink in, her shoulders slumped forward and she muttered, ‘How?’

‘Mrs Millar, I’m so very sorry.’ Jazz spoke softly. ‘Julian’s body was found in a trunk in the cellar of Fleat House a few hours ago.’

Angelina looked at Jazz in disbelief. ‘How? Why?!’

‘We don’t know yet, but it’s pretty obvious someone put him there. I’m so sorry to tell you this, but we think he was attacked from behind and fell down the cellar steps to his death. His body was then placed in a trunk.’

‘You . . . you’re saying he was . . . murdered?’

‘Almost certainly, yes. I’m so dreadfully sorry, but it’s better you know the truth immediately.’

Angelina was staring at Jazz unseeingly, her face a picture of horror. ‘Julian, murdered?’ she whispered. ‘He had no enemies. Everyone loved him, respected him.’

‘He was a lawyer, Mrs Millar. He’s bound to have made some enemies amongst the local criminal fraternity, which is one route we have to explore . . .’

‘He was found in the cellar at Fleat House . . . Charlie Cavendish was found dead there a couple of weeks ago, and the house tutor committed suicide . . . What on earth is going on in that place and why didn’t you find out before Julian got murdered?!’ Angelina was on her feet, tearing her hair in anguish and anger. ‘Well, where’s David?! He did it, he murdered Charlie and Julian! And now he’s going to come and murder me and Rory! Julian died because you let David go!’

Angelina launched herself suddenly at Jazz, her small fists clenched together, lashing out like a child. Jazz grabbed her wrists easily as Angelina fought back in a frenzy of shock and anger.

‘Mrs Millar, I understand what a shock this is for you . . .’

‘No, you DON’T! Julian is dead! He’s DEAD!’

All of Angelina’s energy left her suddenly, and she slumped into Jazz’s arms, sobbing. Jazz sat her down in the chair as gently as she could, and sat opposite her, helpless as she always was in these moments. Seeing the rawness and intimacy of another human being’s suffering was never easy. She sat quietly, waiting.