‘What does?’ Jazz asked gently, already knowing the reason.

Adele took her hands away from her face to reveal pain etched on it. ‘The fact that, when my son was murdered, the man who should have been protecting him . . . was here . . . with me . . .’

Miles was still sitting at Jazz’s desk when she returned to Foltesham police station.

She recounted her conversation with Adele as succinctly as she could.

‘I think it explains why Hugh thought he was Corin’s long-lost son. At some point, Hugh had seen Sebastian wearing the ring Adele gave him last November. Sebastian also looks the same age as Jenny’s son would have been; plus Hugh knew Frederiks was brought up in Norfolk. Not to mention his blond hair and blue eyes, just like Corin’s,’ added Jazz.

‘Yes, Ma’am, but where does it get us?’

‘Well, it’s doubtful Frederiks had a clue about why Hugh had left him the money.’ Jazz rubbed her nose thoughtfully. ‘I mean, if he had, it would have brought him to the painful conclusion that he’s actually having an affair with his aunt.’

Miles grimaced. ‘Yup. Nice one. Unless, of course, Frederiks and Mummy Cavendish were in this together . . .’

‘Come on, Miles! Can you really believe Adele would plot to murder her own son?’ Jazz shook her head. ‘Highly unlikely, I suspect. Adele adored Charlie. But at least I can understand now why Frederiks turned a blind eye to Charlie and his Flashman style behaviour towards the younger boys. He wanted Charlie to like him. After all, he could have been his stepdaddy one day. No,’ she sighed, ‘I’m afraid we have to count Frederiks out . . .’

‘Which brings us back to square one . . .’

‘I’m off back to the school to speak to Mr Jones about this boy who died in the cellar,’ Jazz continued. ‘Jenny Colman said he was called Jamie, but she was very cagey. I want to know the whole story. My instinct tells me it has something to do with what’s happened.’

‘I’ll carry on with Forbes’s computer. I’ve done his business files and failed miserably to find any Smiths at all. I’m going to start on his personal stuff now,’ Miles added.

‘Fine. I’ll also see Frederiks and lean on him to talk about this boy who was hanged in the cellar. And I’ll ask him again about Julian Forbes. See you later.’

‘Good luck, Ma’am.’ Miles yawned – it had been a late one last night – then turned his attention back to Forbes’s laptop and tried to concentrate on the job in hand.

Chapter Thirty-One

Issy watched Rory as he sketched a snowdrop which stood in a small vase on his bedroom desk.

‘You draw beautifully, sweetie.’

‘Thanks,’ said Rory, concentrating on his sketch.

‘Dad’s back in the cell at Foltesham, by the way,’ Issy said casually.

Rory’s pencil only hesitated for a second. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. They seem to think he killed someone else, too.’