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Chapter 58

ElcidDoyle’s study was at the back of the house. It was a wonderfully sunny room. Warm rugs and a flagstone floor. Bespoke, floor-to-ceiling bookcases hugged the walls on the left and right. The wood was dark and old. Teak, Poe thought. There was even a rolling library ladder so Elcid could reach the uppermost shelves. Poe had never seen that in a private residence.

The wall opposite the door had windows overlooking the grounds and a stone fireplace in the middle. A shovel, poker and tongs hung from a brass stand. Logs were stacked either side of the fire.

The fourth wall, the one they’d walked through, showcased a collection of original oil paintings. Poe put on his reading glasses and studied them. They were all British game birds. There were ring-necked pheasants, snipes, woodcocks and partridges. Some mallard ducks. The majority were grouse, though. A pair of red grouse resting in purple-flowering heather. A black grouse ‘lek’– a site where males display their tail feathers to attract females. Red grouse being flushed from cover by a black Labrador. Black grouse flying over the waiting guns. Ania said Elcid Doyle had owned one of the best grouse moors in the country and it was clear the game bird had been his passion.

A magnificent mahogany pedestal desk centred the room. It had a green leather inlay. Poe imagined Elcid sitting behind it, glancing up occasionally to admire his paintings. He ran his fingers over it. It was warm and smooth. The only items on the desk were an antique banker’s lamp, a sheaf of expensive paper, a blotter pad and a Montblanc fountain pen.

The desk chair was missing. Elcid Doyle had died sitting down and Poe assumed the chair had been taken away for further analysis.He remembered being told about the old days. There would have been a ring of ash circling the body as cops walked around it while smoking. Not here, though. All he could see was evidence of a thorough CSI investigation.

There was a small, low table in front of the fire. A Chesterfield high wingback chair was positioned to catch the last of the evening light. There were slate coasters, an ashtray and a cigar cutter on the table. Elcid probably lived in this room. Spent the day working at his desk and the evening in front of the fire, sipping Scotch and reading.

One of the bookcase walls had a door. Poe opened it. It was an en suite shower room. A modern cubicle, a toilet and a hand basin. A shelf with a traditional shaving kit. A classic design straight razor, badger-hair shaving brush, soap and balm. The kit looked decades old but lovingly cared for.

The bathroom had another door. It was a small airing cupboard. Slatted shelves loaded with towels and spare toilet rolls. Given the dimensions of the two rooms, it was a bit smaller than Poe had expected. He suspected a new water heater was behind it. The shower was too new to run off the house’s original plumbing.

Poe turned and noticed something.

‘Can you come in here please, ma’am,’ he said.

‘What is it, Poe?’

He pointed at the frosted window. ‘The latch. It’s unlocked.’

Tai-young Lee bent down and studied it.

‘You can still see aluminium fingerprint powder,’ she said. ‘The tech must have forgotten to lock it after he’d finished. If it’d been unlocked when he dusted it, he’d have highlighted it to one of the guys.’ She pulled a tablet out of her shoulder bag, found a file and turned it round. ‘We can check, though. This is the video walk through of the office. It was taken before anything was processed.’

The video was three minutes long and the CSI tech hadn’t missed anything. It ended in the office’s en-suite. As Lee had said, the window had been locked.

Poe considered where he wanted to look next. Highwood had been a bust so far and he was running out of things to check.

His phone rang.

It was Flynn. He frowned. She was supposed to be spending time with her son.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘It’s Karen Royal-Cross,’ Flynn replied. ‘The bastard got to her.’