‘Did he?’ Harri asked.

‘He says you’ve got a thing for him,’ Cynthia smiled. ‘That you still fancy him. You’ve got to move on. This family’s suffered enough. The boys don’t need you coming here with ideas of revenge. I know it’s hard, love, but you’ve got to accept he’s not interested.’

Harri flushed. This was an excruciating humiliation. It was bad enough to have been rejected by the man, but to be chastised by the housekeeper in front of Sabih was too much.

‘We’re here investigating a suspicious death,’ Sabih said, producing his warrant card, and saving her from further embarrassment. ‘Detective Sergeant Sabih Khan.’

‘I don’t have anything to say,’ Cynthia replied.

‘Is Mr Elmys home?’ Harri asked, regaining her composure.

‘No.’

‘Will he be back later?’ Harri pressed.

‘He’s on a research trip.’

‘I thought he’d left the university,’ Harri remarked.

‘It’s his own research. For a personal project,’ Cynthia replied.

‘Does he take many of these trips?’ Sabih asked.

Harri could see he was thinking along the same lines as her. A scientist without a job going on late-night research trips could be up to all sorts of mischief.

‘Take your search for scandal somewhere else,’ Cynthia replied. ‘These lads have been through enough. These are good people. This is a good house.’

She started to shut the door, but Harri put her foot in the gap and stopped her. She couldn’t bear the thought of coming away with nothing. She had to know the truth, but she wasn’t sure which one was of more interest. The truth about what happened to David and Beth Asha? Or the truth about why Ben had ghosted her?

‘Can I use your toilet?’

Cynthia eyed her with suspicion.

‘We’ve been driving for ages, and it’s a long way back to civilization.’

Cynthia didn’t respond.

‘Please,’ Harri said. ‘Don’t make me go by the side of the road. Not in the dark.’

Cynthia looked at Sabih. ‘You stay here.’

Harri glanced at him, and he shrugged.

Cynthia opened the door and allowed Harri inside. The hallway had a black slate floor and was lined with full-length bookcases. The shelves were packed, mostly with non-fiction science books, which stood behind photographs of David and Beth Asha and their son, Elliot. They looked a kindly, happy couple and the love they had for Elliot was clear in every picture.

‘Must be difficult for the boy to grow up surrounded by memories of his parents,’ Harri observed.

‘Where else would he go? This is his home,’ Cynthia replied. ‘Here it is.’

She stopped outside a dark wooden door. The brass handle gleamed like a honey sun, and reflected a miniature figure. Harri glanced to her right and saw Elliot sitting on the floor of a large room, surrounded by papers and A3 pages covered in scribblings.

‘Mind your business,’ Cynthia said crossly, and as she reached for the door, Elliot turned and caught Harri’s eye. He kept his gaze fixed on her, and his eyes burned like a couple of coals blazing in a hearth.