‘He never married. I double-checked this morning. Perhaps the girl in the picture left him and he spent the rest of his life nursing a broken heart.’

‘Perhaps. You found anything?’ she asked.

‘Nothing of interest so far. No personal letters, only work-related missives to various curators of libraries around the world. Daneman was obviously regarded as a serious authority.’

‘If he was, why on earth was he working as a tutor in a little-known public school in a Norfolk backwater?’ mused Jazz. ‘At present, I can’t get a hook on Daneman at all.’

‘Perhaps he enjoyed the camaraderie of school life. He didn’t need the money, that’s for sure. There are invoices here for thousands of pounds, enough to keep a single man going very comfortably.’

‘Any bank statements?’

‘I’ve looked, but not found.’

‘Okay,’ Jazz sighed. ‘I’ll take the drawers under the bookcase.’

An hour later, Jazz re-closed the curtains and they left the flat. They’d sifted through every scrap of paper in the place, and found nothing pertaining to Daneman’s will or his personal life.

‘Spot of lunch, Ma’am?’ asked Miles.

‘I want to head straight back.’

‘Sure you don’t want to pop into the Yard on your way home? They’d all love to see you and you know who is on leave for the weekend. I checked the roster.’

‘Er, thanks but no thanks.’ Jazz smiled up at Miles wryly as she switched the engine on. ‘I’ll see you Monday. Bye.’

Jazz pulled out into the London traffic, feeling deflated and no wiser than when she’d arrived.

Angelina Millar put down the telephone and gave a small moue of displeasure. Matron had just called her to say Rory had a stomach bug and had been moved to the sanatorium. The doctor had been to see him and he was not unduly concerned, but felt Rory was too sick to come home at present.

Angelina was meant to be picking him up from school this morning for his weekly exeat. Matron had said Angelina could come and see him whenever she wanted over the weekend.

Which is very good of her, she thought crossly, considering he’s my child.

She had been planning to have a nice cosy tea, try and find out if David’s fears were founded on reality or alcohol. And then, later, broach the skiing holiday, prepare him gently for Julian’s joining them on it.

But all this wouldn’t be possible now. And next weekend he was with his father . . .

The thought of David and his last visit here made her stomach turn. Julian had assumed she’d been under threat from David. That was why he’d been so aggressive and manhandled him out of the house. But she felt awful about it.

Julian had been unrepentant, saying that the man could not just walk into what was now his home when he felt like it. He hoped by kicking him out David would get the message.

Angelina hadn’t heard from David since. She knew she was meant to call him about Rory, but she couldn’t face speaking to him.