‘Like I said, he sends me money and Christmas cards and all that. He don’t like flying, which is why he’s never been out here. I haven’t seen him in around ten years. He fell out with me when I decided to move to Spain with Xavi, my new husband. They don’t get on. Xavi’s a bit younger than Clive and he didn’t approve. I understand, I suppose; it must have been strange for him.’

‘Right, OK. Do you know a man called Reece Corrigan?’

‘Yes, Reece, course I do. He’s a very good friend to my Clive; sorted him out with a new job and everything after they left for Devon. He even set me up with a builder over here when we needed some work done on our place. Is this about Reece? Is that why you’re calling me from Exeter?’

‘No, we are purely trying to locate Clive. Do you have an address for him?’

‘Sorry, no, I don’t.’

‘How much does he send you every month?’

‘Three hundred euros.’

‘How does he send that?’

‘He sends me a card with the cash in it.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Ortega, you’ve been very helpful.’

Adrian rung off, even more certain at this point that Clive Osborne was dead. Yet again, there was no evidence. Maybe they would find something at the house in Oswestry.

Chapter Sixty-Four

The house in Oswestry was worth considerably less than the one in Exeter. It was a good size, but not quite as striking as the dream house Reece had bought with Angela Corrigan. The door of the modest 1940s semi-detached opened and a young man answered. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

‘I’m DS Grey and this is DI Walsh,’ Imogen said, holding up her warrant card.

‘You’re here for the search? My dad has just gone down into the cellar with one of the police officers. Do you want me to get him for you?’

‘Thanks, if you can just show us the way,’ DI Walsh said.

‘Sure, just follow me.’

They walked past a police officer doing a deep scan of the walls using a hand-held Doppler radar device. Reece Corrigan had the means to make a body disappear with relative ease. The chances of him leaving the body in the house he used to live in were slim; however, it was one of those things they couldn’t ignore. The timing of him leaving the town and moving to Devon was suspicious, as though maybe time had run out for him there. Knowing what had happened to Simon Glover, they couldn’t take a chance on this. No stone would remain unturned.

They followed the young man into the cellar, where his father stood looking over the room with concern.

‘Hello, Mr Parkin. Thank you for letting us conduct this search. I am DI Walsh and this is DS Grey,’ Walsh said.