He looked around, as if not sure what to say next, and Trudy said gently, ‘There’s no immediate rush, Mr Thorpe. But if you could do it today, sometime, that would be very helpful. And best to do it when it’s still light, I think. We’ll arrange it with the morgue staff that someone’s there to meet you and walk you through the process. It’s not at all frightening. Although it will probably be upsetting,’ she felt obliged to add.

‘Oh, yes, yes I’m sure,’ he said vaguely, still looking around in a sort of helpless way. Spotting a chair, he walked to it stiff-legged and sat in it abruptly. ‘I just can’t believe … Terry was such a good driver … He wasn’t in the Sprite, was he?’ he added quickly, his voice rising an octave in panic.

Trudy looked at him blankly. ‘I’m sorry, sir?’

‘The Frog-eyed Sprite!’ Geoffrey said sharply. ‘Terry liked to drive the cars. He said it was an advertisement for the business, to show them off. He always chose a car from the showroom, and his current favourite was the Sprite.’

‘Oh no, sir. I think it was a Riley. It was rather covered with snow,’ she added apologetically.

‘Oh, yes, that makes sense, now I come to think of it,’ Geoffrey said, suddenly letting out his breath in a sigh of relief. ‘What with the conditions …’ He waved a hand at the window, and the snow still falling steadily outside. ‘We ourselves just went round to our next-door neighbours’ for a bit of a drink last night.’ He nodded to indicate the house on their immediate left. ‘They invited a few of us in the street. It saved anyone having to drive, you see. But Terry was determined to go to this particular “do” and he didn’t mind so much driving in tricky conditions, being younger and less of a fuddy-duddy than myself.’ He gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘Especially if he’d decided to take the Riley. It handles like a tank but it is reassuringly heavy.’ He rubbed his palms over his knees, and took a shaky breath.

‘You knew all about Mrs Vander’s party then?’ Trudy asked casually.

Geoffrey sighed, smiled wearily, then nodded. ‘Oh yes. Terry wasn’t one to keep his light under a bushel, Constable. And being invited to such a socially prominent “do” was a bit of a feather in his cap.’

‘I see. Was he a heavy drinker?’

‘I wouldn’t have said so. I mean, no. But at a party …’ He shrugged. ‘Well, he’d probably have a drink or two. Poor Terry.’ He shook his head. ‘I just can’t believe it. You’re sure that he’s really dead?’

‘Yes, sir. That is, the man in the car is dead.’ She again sought out her notebook and recited the number plate of the crashed vehicle.