“We need your help, please, Mrs. Withey,” Ridley began politely. “We now have evidence that suggests Mike was involved in the Aylesbury train robbery back in ’95. This isn’t what either of us expected or wanted to find out, right?”

Anik hid his smile. In one sentence, Ridley had put himself firmly on the same side as Susan and they were now allies.

“Obviously, with Mike being a police officer, we want to be certain that the evidence isn’t misleading us. I can’t divulge the details, but if you could provide us with Mike’s whereabouts on several specific dates, that would be incredibly helpful.”

Anik opened his notebook in preparation for the next phase of the interview.

“DC Joshi has a list of the dates in question. He’ll also be asking you about the money Mike received from the sale of the Spanish villa and the money he used to buy the house you currently occupy. I’m sorry that these are intrusive questions. They’re unavoidable at this stage.”

Ridley doubted Susan knew anything about her husband’s criminal activities. If she was a victim, she needed to be treated with the respect and empathy that deserved.

When Susan spoke, it was with absolute honesty.

“My husband, DCI Ridley, was a drunk, a gambler, a womanizer and . . . and he could be a violent man. He was weak in that sense. But he loved the law. He felt terribly let down by it—his sister was murdered, his brother’s locked away in a system that clearly doesn’t work—but he respected it.” Unconsciously, she straightened her back, raised her chin and all the love she had ever felt for Mike could be seen in her watering eyes. “I’ll help you. And I think we’ll discover that Mike had nothing to do with your train robbery.”

Ridley stood and smiled.

“I hope you’re right, Mrs. Withey,” he said as he left the room.

Susan’s former mother-in-law, on the other hand, was a less than co-operative witness. Audrey sat back in her chair, arms folded, lips pursed, eyebrows down, totally closed off. She was on autopilot and, as soon as Jack opened his mouth to ask her if she needed anything, she’d instinctively said “no comment.”

“You do know you’re not under arrest, Mrs. Withey? You’re helping us to find out who killed your son, and we’re very grateful for that. Very grateful. I didn’t know Mike, but I’ve heard great things. I want justice for him, as I’m sure you do . . . Do you mind if we record our chat so we’re not distracted by note-taking?”

Laura was in awe. Audrey should have been putty in his hands, after that little opening speech.

But Laura was wrong.

“You’re as shit as the rest of them,” Audrey said, and got up and walked out.

On the front steps of the police station, Audrey sucked in half of her cigarette in one go, before coughing out a long plume of smoke. Behind her, Susan stepped out the main doors. As she spotted the back of Audrey’s damp, frizzy head, her jaw muscles flickered and her eyes narrowed.