Justine screwed up her face. ‘Well, I think he was wearing his jeans, because he almost always was, his sneakers and a white shirt – in fact, rather an expensive one, with one of those priest collars, not a button-down – and he wasn’t wearing a tie.’

Justine got up from her stool, fetched the coffee pot and refilled their mugs.

‘I left the flat and, as you know, the parking ticket shows that I was fined at five fifteen p.m. I drove from Kensington straight home and I have only just remembered that when I got there, Abby, my cleaner, was waiting. I had forgotten to pay her on the Friday. I asked if she could come with me to the nearest cash machine and I withdrew enough to pay her wages and for me for the rest of the week. When we returned, Abby finished some ironing and left. I then went to bed.’

Jane could hardly believe it. If everything Justine was saying could be verified, she had an alibi for the time of her ex-husband’s murder.

Justine picked up her coffee mug and smiled. ‘Perhaps we could sit in more comfort in the drawing room as I’d like a cigarette.’

*

Spencer had grabbed himself a sandwich and a coffee to eat at his desk and was intending to write up a report of his interview with Simon Quinn. As he walked into the incident room, he was surprised to see DI Miller.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be interviewing Justine Harris, sir?’

‘Yes, but not until three p.m. That pompous twat Darren McDermott has put the meeting back because he has an urgent situation at his fucking chambers. He should be collecting me any minute.’

Spencer put his coffee down and checked the time. ‘Hang on a minute, sir, did anyone talk to Tennison? The last time I saw her, she was on her way to meet with you at Justine Harris’s home.’

On the other side of the room DC Dors put up his hand. ‘Guv, I put in a call to the agency to speak to Tennison but I was told you had both already left, so I presumed someone must have got in contact.’

Spencer glared at him. ‘You fucking presumed? What the hell is going on here? She left around eleven thirty this morning and was getting the Underground to be sure she got to the interview for midday. Has anyone been in touch with her? I mean, does this Justine bitch know the meeting isn’t going ahead until three p.m.?’ Spencer turned his attention to Miller. ‘Tennison has gone to see her, and you, of all people’ – he pointed at him – ‘know what Justine Harris is capable of doing.’