Willow’s brain was fizzing with ideas and snatches of memory. She fetched her laptop and fired it up. ‘This is a scrap of a photo found on the hill near Eleanor’s body. Look at the blown-up image. Could that be the outside of the museum, do you think?’

Sandy stared at it, frowning. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘It’s hard to tell, but yes, I think it is. But why would that picture make someone commit a murder?’

‘If we knew that, Sandy, we’d have the case closed and be on our way home.’

Willow looked towards Perez to share the news, but he wasn’t there. He’d finished his call, wandered out into the courtyard and was standing quite still. The public bar was closed as a mark of respect following Charles Hillier’s death, so there were no lights to shine on the yard. Through the window Willow saw his silhouette. He seemed lost in his own world. Again Willow thought there must be some domestic crisis concerning Cassie. Anyone who took on that man would have a whole heap of baggage to deal with too.

She heard a sound from inside the house, a door being quietly shut, the rustle of clothing, and she walked through into the grand lobby. The only light came from a long sash window next to the front door and was milky, filtered by the mist. David Gordon stood at the top of the curved staircase. He was still in the clothes he’d been wearing during the day and it seemed that he’d made no attempt to sleep. She wondered how long he’d been there and if he’d heard any of the conversation.

‘David, are you OK? Can I get you anything?’

He muttered something that she couldn’t make out and turned away. It was only then that she saw that his hair was covered with fine droplets of water and there were wet footprints on the parquet floor where she was standing. David had been outside. She imagined him standing on the terrace and looking down over the shore to the spot where he’d found his lover’s body. Willow was about to ask where he’d been, but he’d already disappeared back into his room. She hesitated, unsure whether to follow him, when she heard Jimmy Perez come back into the kitchen. Willow thought how disengaged he seemed. She had an urge to shake him. Leave the past behind, at least while you’re working. In the end it was Sandy who asked who’d been on the phone.

‘Eleanor’s mother, Cilla,’ Perez said. He frowned and Willow saw that the content of the call had been preoccupying him. So she’d been wrong. He was entirely focused on the case. She felt a twinge of guilt.

‘Anything useful?’