The first thing I saw was the knife handle protruding from Charles le Mesurier’s throat. It was slim, silver, ornate; a letter opener, Dr Queripel had said. The silk jacket and trousers he had worn at the party clung to him, glued there by the blood that had fountained down from the wound. There was a dark pool of it around his tasselled suede loafers.

‘It’s merciless,’ Dr Queripel muttered.

It seemed an odd choice of word, but then, with a jolt, I realised what he meant. Before he had been killed, le Mesurier’s wrists and ankles had been tied to the chair with brown parcel tape. At least, three of them had. His right hand had been left free and now lay palm upwards, limp, the fingers curled as if he was asking for money. It was a bizarre detail. What could possibly have been done to him before he was murdered, and what had his one hand been needed for?

‘You’ve seen?’ Dr Queripel asked. He was talking to Hawthorne.

Hawthorne had approached the body, avoiding the blood. He looked carefully at the entrance wound made by the knife, then examined the back of le Mesurier’s head. Finally, his eyes travelled down to the dead man’s hands. ‘Was he left-handed or right-handed?’ he asked.

‘I don’t really know. Why do you ask?’

‘His watch,’ Hawthorne said. ‘He wore a Rolex, but it’s gone.’ It was true. The shirtsleeve, saturated in blood, hung open, revealing a wrist that was bare.

‘I don’t know.’ Dr Queripel was aghast. ‘I have a feeling he was right-handed. But are you really suggesting that somebody did all this to steal his watch?’

‘There’s no sign of any break-in and he’s wearing the same clothes he had on at the party, so it looks as if he came straight here, either alone or with someone. Maybe he’d arranged a meeting. There’s a contusion on the back of his head – I’d say he’s been hit with a blunt object. He was forced into the chair and tied down. One wrist was left free. There has to be a reason.’

‘Maybe the killer ran out of tape,’ I said.

This suggestion was greeted with silence.

Dr Queripel took a step closer and Hawthorne held up a hand. ‘Please be careful!’

The doctor stopped and Hawthorne pointed to an area of carpet about halfway between the chair and the door into the garden. The dark red and mauve pattern made it difficult to make out what he had seen, but looking closer, I noticed the shape of a partial footprint. There was a curve where the toecap had come into contact with the blood. It could have been left behind by a man or a woman, but from the size I got the impression that it was someone with small feet.