Hawthorne’s arrival had given Terry a new sense of purpose. In the ten minutes it took him to drive us from the beach to the hotel, he managed to tell us his entire life story and give us the background he was certain we’d need to crack the case.

‘It’s this power line. NAB. Ever since they said they were going to dig up the island, everyone’s been at each other’s throats. I bet that’s why someone did in Mr le Mesurier.’

I thought Hawthorne would be irritated, but he seemed amused. ‘Why do you say that?’

Terry adjusted his driving mirror so he could look into the back where we were sitting. He had curls of ginger hair, blue eyes and a boxer’s nose. ‘Nothing ever happened on this island without his say-so,’ he explained. ‘Talk about a finger in every pie! He’s got shops, restaurants, pubs, the post office . . . he was even talking about setting up his own taxi service! And as for that house of his, you know he spent five million quid building it? How he got planning permission right on the edge of the sea, and his own private pillbox, is anyone’s guess.’

He hooted at another car. Not because it was in the way but because he knew the driver.

‘Did I tell you I was actually outside The Lookout last night? I was working all evening. And I must have been parked there when . . . it happened. It’s incredible, really. Crazy! There’s never been a murder in Alderney before.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Hawthorne said.

I was glad the journey wasn’t any longer. It was already mid-morning and, like Deputy Chief Torode, we’d left without breakfast. We pulled up in front of the hotel and Hawthorne instructed Terry to wait outside while the two of us went in, making for the restaurant.

It wasn’t to be. Anne Cleary was sitting in the reception area. She had been waiting for us. The moment she saw us, she stood up and came over.

‘Is it true?’ she demanded. ‘Charles le Mesurier has been killed?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Hawthorne didn’t sound too sorry, but then, of course, the murder had provided him with another case – and perhaps another source of income.

‘And none of us can leave the island?’

‘They’ve sent a couple of officers over from Guernsey and that’s their instruction . . . yes.’

Anne Cleary was on the edge of tears. ‘But I have to get back to Oxford. I have a doctor’s appointment first thing tomorrow.’

‘It’ll have to wait.’

‘It can’t wait. You don’t understand.’

Hawthorne just looked at her blankly, so I stepped in. ‘We were just going to have breakfast. Would you like to join us?’

‘I think they’ve stopped serving.’