Jackson pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose

“You are withholding information that could be material to a murder inquiry,” he sighed.

I was waiting with bated breath for him to say something, anything, that wasn’t a cliché. I was destined for another disappointment.

“I don’t have to tell you that it’s an offense to obstruct the police. Frankly, I could do without the hassle of charging you, Miss Brannigan, but you make it very tempting.”

“I could do without the hassle too, Inspector. If it’s any help, the answer will be the same whether you charge me or not.” I tried not to sound as defiant as I felt. A night in the cells would be both uncomfortable and bad for business.

“Get her out of my sight, Sergeant Bradley,” Jackson said, getting to his feet. “Get her to sign her statement first,” he continued as he crossed the room and left.

The sergeant proffered the sheets of my statement and I read through it quickly. It never ceases to amaze me that no matter what you actually say in a police statement, it always comes out in a strangulated officialese. In spite of the jargon, Sergeant Bradley appeared to have got the gist of what I’d said, so I signed dutifully.

I was escorted back to the hall, where Jackson was earnestly talking to the uniformed sergeant. When he saw me, he scowled and said, “Miss Brannigan’s leaving now, Sergeant. Get one of the lads to see her off the premises. And I mean right off.” Then he turned to me and said, “I don’t want you discussing the circumstances of this case with anyone. And I don’t just mean the press. I mean you are not to talk to anyone about the method or timing of this incident. Is that understood?” I nodded. Then he added, “We’ll let you know when we want to see you again. And keep your nose out. Leave this to the professionals.”

I’d be only too happy to do just that, I thought as I drove down the drive. But somehow, I had the feeling Jett wasn’t going to give me that option.

It was just after three a.m. when the electronic gates opened silently before me and I drove out into the lane, waving goodbye to the patrol car that had followed me down the drive. I slowed down as I approached Colcutt village, searching in the glove box for something more soothing than Tina Turner. As I hit the bend, a figure appeared in my headlights. It froze momentarily, then disappeared into the darkness of the verge.