‘What about his parents?’

‘His father died some years ago, and his mother quite recently,’ Angelina explained.

‘Any close friends? Brothers or sisters he’d go to?’

‘David was an only child. And no, he didn’t really have any close friends. He was always a bit of a loner.’

‘Besides,’ Julian interjected, ‘he’d realise friends and family would be the first place the police would look.’

‘Mr Forbes, you’re assuming David has actually run away with Rory. It may be he felt, quite understandably, that both of them needed some time together and he’s every intention of returning soon.’ Jazz turned to Angelina. ‘Right, I think that’s as much as I need to know for now.’ She closed her notebook and stowed it in her briefcase. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as there’s any news.’

Angelina nodded slowly. ‘I just want my son back. You don’t think he’s in danger, do you, Inspector?’

‘He’s with his father, who, from everything you’ve told me, obviously adores him.’ Jazz stood up. ‘I’ll have one of my officers call you when they’ve sorted out the tracers on your telephones. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.’ She nodded a goodbye and left the room.

Miles was waiting for her in the car outside.

‘Anything interesting?’ he asked as he started the engine.

Jazz stared out of the window. ‘We have a possible suspect. An emotionally unstable alcoholic, with a son whom he may well know has been bullied by our victim. And yet . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘It just doesn’t feel right. I’ve met David Millar, albeit briefly. He was in a very distressed state. And actually, because he was very, very drunk at the time, I find it hard to believe he could conceive and carry out a premeditated murder.’

‘Would he have known Charlie Cavendish was allergic to aspirin anyway?’ asked Miles.

‘Rory could have told him. It certainly wasn’t a secret.’ As Miles drove towards Foltesham, Jazz switched her mobile on to check for messages.

‘That was Norton, wanting to know when we’re announcing Hugh Daneman’s death to the press. Any longer and it really will start to look suspicious.’

‘In a wider context, it’s not so unusual to hear of a lifelong schoolmaster topping himself when he’s faced with retirement,’ reasoned Miles.

‘Goodbye Mr Chips and all that,’ mused Jazz. ‘I cried buckets watching that film.’

‘Did you, Ma’am?’ He stared at her. ‘Find that hard to imagine.’

‘Because I’m a hard-bitten, female copper without a heart, you mean?’ Jazz raised an eyebrow and keyed in Norton’s number on her mobile. ‘Cheers.’

‘Sorry, Ma’am.’ Miles blushed. ‘I suppose I just think of you as . . . one of the blokes, really. And blokes wouldn’t cry at that kind of thing.’ He swiftly changed the subject, knowing he was digging himself into a hole. ‘By the way, I’ve spoken to Daneman’s solicitor and yes, his practice does hold Hugh’s will. He’s going to contact the beneficiaries immediately, in line with procedure, and once he’s done that, he’ll release the details to us.’