Miller gave Jane a quizzical look as she referred to her notepad.

‘Ms. Harris, I noticed that your husband’s bed appears to have been slept in quite recently. It would help if you could clarify when he last slept here.’

Justine shrugged. ‘Oh God, I’m trying to remember. Maybe a week or so ago? I have already told you he was a frequent visitor, but please do not imagine for a moment that I continued to have a sexual relationship with my ex-husband.’

Miller appeared eager to leave, but Jane wasn’t finished.

‘Also, I know you have a young Filipino cleaner working for you. Does she also do your laundry?’

‘My laundry?’ Justine started to sound irritated. ‘Yes, she does my washing. We have a very good machine.’

Jane held up her pencil. ‘I’m sorry, I meant the bed linen?’

‘Oh, well, that’s all sent to the laundry.’

Jane persisted. ‘Including your ex-husband’s?’

Justine sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

Jane closed her notebook as Justine approached and touched her lightly on the arm.

‘I hope I’ve answered all your questions.’

‘Yes, you have, thank you,’ Miller said with an unctuous smile, ushering Jane towards the door.

Jane nodded her thanks. ‘Mr. Henson said that if you need him, you are to call him.’

Justine walked them to the front door. She watched Jane and Miller get into the patrol car, then closed the front door. She stood there, her hand still on the door, as if frozen.

Then she suddenly started screaming.

‘You two-faced little shit in your fucking pink shirt! You cunt! You bastard!’

She closed her eyes and took two deep breaths.

More calmly, she said to herself, ‘You fooled him . . . you fooled him completely. You are such a good actress . . . you are so clever.’ She smiled. ‘He really has no idea.’

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

The return journey to the station was tense. Miller asked exactly what Jane had removed from the house and she passed him her notebook, where she had duplicated the list given to Justine Harris. He flicked through the pages and held it over his right shoulder to pass it back to her.

‘Take everything to the forensic lab and get them working specifically on the blood and drugs. DS Lawrence will forward them to Toxicology.’

Jane put the notebook back into her bag. ‘There was something odd about the bedroom that Charles Foxley had been using,’ she said. ‘There was a dank smell to the room, as if he had only left the bed that morning. I did remove the sheet and a pillowcase for traces of human hair, and a number of items for fingerprinting—’

‘Yes, yes. I can read!’ snapped Miller.

There was a long pause before Jane spoke again.

‘Unless his ex-wife had been sleeping in the room? She may have been using the drugs, which, from the rolled-up bank notes, I’m certain was cocaine.’