‘Your mother? Is she still alive?’ asked Jazz.

‘Yes she is – although she’s rather frail these days. She lives in the East Wing so I can keep an eye on her.’

‘Would you mind if we visited her?’

Edward sighed. ‘Adele and I haven’t told her about Charlie’s death. We feel it would upset her. And until we’ve decided what to do with the estate, we don’t want her to worry.’

‘I understand.’ Jazz nodded. ‘But I would like to see her, and soon.’

‘Then let me prepare her, tell her the news myself. I’ll also say you want to speak about an old friend of Corin’s who has recently passed away. She’ll like that. Corin always was her favourite child,’ Edward added, an edge to his voice.

‘I don’t want to push you, but perhaps you could let us know when you have told her?’

Edward nodded. ‘Give me a couple of days.’

‘Of course,’ said Jazz, standing up and shaking Edward’s hand. Miles did the same.

‘I feel I’ve hardly helped at all. And perhaps, if you do turn anything up, you’d kindly allow me to be party to it. History’s my bag, you see. I’ve spent most of my time since my riding accident studying Conaught ancestors. It would be expedient to include the modern as well as the ancient members of the family in my book.’

‘I’ll keep you informed. Just one more question, Sir. Corin never had a child, did he?’

Edward raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Not to my knowledge, no. Why?’

‘No reason, Sir. Just making sure.’

‘If he had, then I for one would be sleeping much easier in my bed about the future of the estate.’ He sighed.

‘Yes, I understand,’ acknowledged Jazz.

‘Well,’ Edward nodded, ‘good day to you both.’

The housekeeper showed them to the front door and they walked down the steps towards the car. Jazz turned back and surveyed the house. The sun had gone in, there was a chill wind and wet drizzle falling from the gathering clouds. At that moment Jazz could have sworn she saw a silhouette retreating from an upstairs window on the left-hand side of the house.

Jazz shivered involuntarily and stepped into the welcoming warmth of the car.

Chapter Fifteen

When Jazz arrived on Angelina Millar’s doorstep twenty minutes later, the door was opened by a tall, immaculately dressed man. In his mid-thirties, he was classically handsome, with a chiselled jawline and a good head of neatly combed black hair.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Yes, Sir. I’m Detective Inspector Hunter. I’ve come to see Mrs Millar. This is her house, isn’t it?’

‘Our house, yes.’ The man finally held out his hand. ‘Julian Forbes. I’m Angelina’s partner. I live here, too. Please come in. I sent Angelina up to bed for a rest, but I doubt if she’s sleeping.’ He ushered Jazz through the hall and into the drawing room. ‘Wait here. I’ll go and see if she’s awake.’ He nodded at Jazz and left the room.