The London traffic wasn’t too terrible either, plus I knew the best route, so I arrived at forty-two Arlain Road in good time. I slotted the car right outside. As I climbed the steps to the tall, white, stucco-fronted town house, I realized it had only a fifty-fifty chance of occupancy, but this sort of place usually had a housekeeper, so some clue to whereabouts might be ascertained. I could return. Steps came down the passage after I’d rung the doorbell, but then, no housekeeper, or even sulky daughter appeared. This time it was Ingrid herself.

She’d opened the door with a smile, but then, as she recognized me, looked surprised. She blinked. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘I’m sorry. I know I should have phoned or emailed you, but I was terribly afraid you wouldn’t see me and I badly need to speak to you.’ This came out in a bit of a rush.

She digested this silently: looked thoughtful. Then her face softened. She gave a small smile, nodded, and opened the door for me. Her blonde hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing black leggings and an assortment of grey and black vests. She had trainers on her feet.

‘I haven’t got that long,’ she told me apologetically, ‘I’m on my way to the gym.’

‘I promise I won’t keep you long,’ I told her, surprised at her tone. This was very different to the unfriendly, uptight woman I’d previously encountered at lunch in my club.

She led me through a beautiful pale grey hall lined with mirrors, framed photographs and architectural prints. A delicately carved bust sat on a console table flanked by two huge vases of white lilies. I followed her into the kitchen which was so different to mine on the other side of the wall it took my breath away. Pale limed wood and Swedish in design, obviously, it was ultra-modern and achingly chic. There were two white leather and chrome bar stools either side of the island which she pulled out. We sat down opposite each other. The island was smooth white marble and completely bare. No mess, no clutter. Ingrid clasped her hands loosely before her. They were not heavily jewelled today: in fact she had no rings on at all. She waited. I took a deep breath.

‘I came to see you, because I now know that you witnessed my husband’s death. The police told me.’ She remained expressionless. Her pale blue eyes held mine. ‘The thing is, Ingrid, it doesn’t tally with my own recollection of events. Timewise, that is.’

‘I saw on the news they got the man who did it. Isn’t it all over now? Should we be comparing notes?’