After that, she explained about the picture. ‘Can you call Vicky Barnes and ask if her son ever played rugby? Hopefully she’ll remember but, if not, we could ask her if she can identify her son in the photo. Also cross-check the surnames with anything else we might have on record. The link could be the rugby team as opposed to the college but at least there are less people to contact if we start with the sporting angle.’

‘Is there anything else?’ Izzy asked.

‘Can you get me a phone number? The Internet’s not great on my phone.’

‘Who are you after?’

‘A publishing company in London called “Bennett Piper”. Message me the number.’

Jessica hung up and looked through a few of the other items littered around the room as she waited for the number to arrive. The items in the boxes really were an assortment of junk, as if someone had gone to a car-boot sale and bought every item, then packed it all up and left it for twenty years. It did seem strange that the family had been in the house for somewhere between twenty and thirty years and were still living out of boxes. Jessica didn’t find it as odd as some might, however, as she strongly suspected she would be exactly the same if she lived in a house this big. Her bedroom would have all the clothes she needed but everything else would be untouched until required.

The alert tone sounded on her phone and she pressed the buttons to load the message. Izzy had sent her the company’s name and the number. Jessica thumbed the screen and put the phone to her ear as it rang. A secretary answered and Jessica introduced herself as a police officer, asking if she could speak to whoever was in charge. After a short wait, she ended up talking to a woman with a plummy-sounding accent.

Jessica again introduced herself but didn’t elaborate on exact reasons for her call. ‘Can I check that a Charlie Marks worked for you until recently?’

The woman didn’t hesitate. ‘Charlie? Yes, he was here for a few years. He quit a few weeks ago. It was a bit of a surprise really. He’s not in any trouble, is he?’

‘Not at all, I just wanted to check a couple of details. Did he tell you why he left?’

‘Not really, something about returning to the north. I think there may have been a family member involved but I only know that from one of the other people who work here. He didn’t elaborate when he gave his notice.’

Jessica thanked the woman for her time and then hung up, walking out of the room quietly. She wasn’t deliberately creeping but kept to the edges of the hall in an effort to avoid obviously squeaky floorboards. She looked in a couple of other rooms which were very similar to the first in terms of random items. The fourth door she tried led into what was probably Ed’s bedroom. Instead of boxes there were wardrobes that were open with clothes inside and shoes at the bottom. A four-poster bed was made and didn’t seem as if it had been slept in recently and a huge window at the front of the room looked out over the driveway.

Jessica didn’t know what she was looking for so made her way back downstairs. ‘Charlie?’

He came out from a room opposite the front door. ‘Are you sorted?’

‘Yes, I passed on the names from the back of this photo so we can look into them.’ She held up the picture of the rugby team. ‘Do you mind if I keep this for a while?’

‘No worries. Do you want to see some of my brother’s work?’

Jessica didn’t instantly clock what Charlie was asking her but then remembered he had told her his brother was an artist. She wasn’t too fussed either way but was soon glad she’d accepted. Charlie led her into a wide circular room that led out to the back garden. Lining the walls were a series of paintings she was instantly drawn to. Each one was beautifully crafted in watercolour, showing various countryside scenes.

‘They’re brilliant, aren’t they?’ Charlie sounded genuinely impressed at his brother’s work and, for the first time that day, Jessica felt something like sorrow in his voice. She guessed it was hard for him to grieve for someone he didn’t know for sure was dead and hadn’t known properly for years.

‘He was always a decent artist but I didn’t know about any of this,’ Charlie added, pointing to a scene on the wall showing a vast green field with a stone bridge crossing a stream. ‘We used to play football here when we were kids. It was converted into houses years ago but I guess he remembered it.’

Jessica walked around the room, taking time to look at each image. She had never been able to draw herself and had no interest in the art world. Her parents had visited from Cumbria a few years previously and insisted on taking her to the Tate Gallery in Liverpool. They had spent hours but she’d been bored within minutes. All she could remember was a broken men’s urinal stuck to a wall and a basketball suspended in a box, neither of which had impressed her. Her father had jokingly called her a ‘Philistine’ because of her reaction to it all but the paintings mounted around the room genuinely impressed her.

‘They’re terrific,’ she said. ‘He’s very talented.’ She had almost said ‘was very talented’ but stopped herself.

‘Pick one,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He never wanted to sell his work because he didn’t need the money but he frequently gave pieces away when we were younger.’

Jessica thought about the offer for a few moments. ‘No, they’re absolutely beautiful but I’m not sure it would be right. I’d have nowhere to put it anyway.’

‘Okay, well, the offer’s there if you change your mind. Did you say you wanted to see the pool?’

Jessica hadn’t said that exactly but followed Charlie out of the room in any case. He walked through a large archway down a passageway that looped back around towards the rear of the building. There was a white plastic sheet covering a doorway which he moved to one side and held open for her to walk through. Jessica slid sideways past him into the unfinished room. Sunlight streamed through the small gaps where the windows should be but all it showed was a large hole in the ground. Half of the space had been concreted, the other part under a sheet similar to the one at the door.

‘I don’t know why it was started but not finished,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve been looking for paperwork because it’s a bit silly like this. I don’t know if someone’s been paid to finish it, or if Ed changed his mind for whatever reason.’

Jessica nodded. ‘It will be good when it’s done, especially on a day like today.’

‘I’ve got to try to get to grips with the house really. There’s so much stuff and I don’t know where anything is. If I find anything else that could relate to Ed going missing, I’ve still got your number.’

Jessica thanked Charlie for his time and the photo and walked to her car. She drove down the driveway then turned left. Before she could speed up, she saw someone in the garden of the house next door. The man looked past retirement age but was happily pushing a lawnmower up and down. Jessica parked her car and walked towards him. The wall that ran around his house was around three feet tall but the garden was landscaped to run to the top of it so she had to peer up at him.

‘Hello?’ There was no answer so Jessica climbed up onto the wall and walked across the newly cut grass towards him. ‘Hi?’ The man finally glanced up as she got closer. He seemed confused, removing a pair of earplugs and stopping the machine.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Hi, sorry. I’m Detective Sergeant Jessica Daniel from Manchester’s Metropolitan CID. Can I ask how long you’ve lived here?’

The man didn’t smile. ‘Twenty-odd years. Why?’

‘I was wondering how well you knew the Marks family next door.’

‘Only in passing, people keep to themselves around here.’

‘Do you know much about the two sons?’

The man shrugged, not thinking about his answer. ‘The dark-haired one was the only one who’s been living here as far as I know but I’ve not seen him in a little while. I saw someone yesterday with blond hair but I didn’t want to be seen to be sticking my nose in so haven’t been around.’