‘That’s Sheffield, isn’t it? I think I’ve passed through it from time to time on the way into the city. It’s the sort of place that you do just pass through, if I remember rightly. Not the sort of place you’d stop. Unless you live there, of course. Is there a reason for that question?’

‘Do you know where your ex-wife lived after the house you shared was sold?’ asked Tailby.

‘Well, I didn’t,’ said Stafford slowly. ‘But might I make an intelligent guess that it was Totley?’

‘Her neighbours have reported a man trying to find her.’

‘It wasn’t me.’

‘The afternoon of Wednesday 22nd of October . . .’

Stafford produced a diary. ‘I have detailed records of my movements right here, Chief Inspector. I thought you’d never ask.’

‘We’ll take the details from you when you give a statement.’

‘Fine.’

‘Is the name Ros Daniels familiar to you?’ asked Fry.

Martin Stafford shrugged. ‘I have such a lot of old girlfriends, you know. It’s difficult to remember all their names.’

‘About twenty years old, hair in dreadlocks and a couple of rings in her nose.’

‘Hardly, dear.’

‘She was known to your ex-wife.’

Stafford shook his head. ‘Jenny was mixing in different circles from when we were married, then. I’ve no idea who the person you’re describing could be.’

‘Very well,’ said Tailby. ‘That’ll do for now.’

‘I am sorry, you know,’ said Stafford. ‘But she was nothing to do with me any more.’

When Stafford had gone, DCI Tailby seemed to want to sit for a while. Fry stayed with him, wondering if he wanted to discuss the interview, or whether he was content with his own thoughts.

‘Did you believe him, sir?’ she said.

Tailby looked at her in surprise. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It rings true. He believes that Jenny Weston was nothing to do with him.’

‘It seems as though she’s nothing to do with anybody, really,’ said Fry. And as soon as she had said it, the irony of the sentence lodged in a corner of her chest. It was as if the words hadn’t been her own at all, but had been said by someone else about her. She was aware that her life had become completely solitary, apart from the unavoidable professional contact with her colleagues, who had soon learned not to enquire about her private life. She was nothing to do with anybody, really.

‘Not quite true,’ said Tailby, watching Fry curiously. ‘There’s one person out there that she has a whole lot to do with. Though maybe she never knew it.’

18