‘It was that film . . . you remember that film? What was that film called, Justine?’

‘Bonnie and Clyde,’ Justine said, nodding. ‘I’ve been told that before, you know, that I look like her, but I gave up my career when I got married. My mother always told me that I should have never even considered marrying him.’ She gave one of her strange high-pitched laughs. ‘Probably because she wanted him for herself . . . That’s how she was, my mother.’

Jane desperately wanted to get her off the subject of her mother. Although Justine’s movements were no longer as jerky, she was still pacing. Jane wanted to buy time to enable her to get out of the room. She slowly stood up, certain the knife was well hidden, and kept up deep, steady breathing to maintain control.

‘Do you have any photograph albums of when you were acting? I’d love to see pictures of the productions you were in.’

‘Oh, please, don’t be so patronizing,’ Justine sneered. ‘I’m sure you have no interest in my career. I have explained to you that I had nothing to do with my ex-husband’s murder, but I don’t think you believe me. You’re just like everyone else. You don’t believe everything I remembered about where I was and what I did. Just as I was beginning to trust you. Now you’re trying to convince me that I look like a movie star just to calm me down. What you don’t understand is, I could have been a star.’

The sound of the police siren cut through the room. For a second the noise distracted Justine and she turned in a panic towards the window. The siren came closer, along with the blue flashing light, then the front door was being hammered. Spencer screamed out for Jane. She was now in a position to make a run from the drawing room into the hall, as Spencer kicked out the stained-glass panel in the front door. He reached in to open it then ran towards her. There was a look of such relief on his face that it was almost comical.

‘Christ, Jane, are you all right?’

She was so thankful to see him that she almost wept. ‘I’m fine, but Justine is out of control. She’s in there.’

‘You just stay where you are.’ Spencer walked cautiously into the drawing room. Justine was sitting at the piano.

‘I’m going to play you my favorite piece. I achieved Grade Eight when I was seven.’ She began to play the ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

Spencer stopped in his tracks. He looked over to Jane, who was standing in the doorway.

She said, very quietly, ‘There is a silver sheathed dagger down the side of the cushion in the armchair opposite the sofa.’