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‘OK,’ he said.
‘Don’t you want to search it?’ Lee said.
‘No. It wouldn’t be right to. Estelle didn’t want me to come here – I won’t rifle through her backstory. Not until I have her permission.’
‘Fair enough.’
Poe spent ten minutes looking through Highwood’s first-floor windows, desperately hoping for something that could explain theunblemished snow. A tree that could be reached with a ladder. Telephone wires. Anything he could sell to a jury.
But there was nothing.
The drive wrapped the house and it was ten metres wide. The killer couldn’t have jumped out of a window without leaving a mark in the snow. Poe’s mood blackened.
‘What next?’ Lee asked.
‘I’d like to see Elcid Doyle’s study.’
