Her little mouth twisted but she could only nod and do what she was told.

The inspector picked up an upturned chair, righted it, and sat down opposite me, drawing out a notebook. He sat, studying me for a moment. ‘So you found Mr Evans?’ he said at last. ‘I hope you’re not going to make a habit of this kind of thing.’

I gave a weak laugh. ‘So do I.’

‘What are you doing here, Juno? Were you a friend of his?’

‘Not really,’ I admitted. ‘I met him at an auction with Nick. I just wanted to talk to him, really …’ The doubtful way the inspector was eyeing me told me I’d better come clean. ‘I saw him, hanging about outside of Nick’s shop a couple of nights ago. I thought he was trying to break in. I wanted to know what he was up to.’

‘The correct course of action would have been to inform the police at the time,’ he said severely.

‘I know,’ I responded, nodding. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So, tell me what you found,’ he added, rather more gently.

I described what had happened. He let me talk, didn’t interrupt me with questions, but I had to repeat several times exactly how I had found the body.

‘I shouldn’t have moved him, should I? I could see he was dead, really. But I thought there might be a chance … I felt I had to try,’ I finished lamely.

The inspector smiled. ‘Of course you did.’

‘He was murdered, wasn’t he? He didn’t just collapse. Whoever did this …’ I gestured feebly around the ransacked room.

‘Well, we won’t know until the post-mortem exactly how he died, but there are indications that he didn’t go into the water voluntarily.’

‘Someone held his head under.’ I shuddered, remembering his face.

The inspector was obviously reluctant to say too much, but he didn’t have to.

At that moment the detective constable returned and signalled to her boss from the doorway. He excused himself and joined her there. She spoke in a lowered voice but I could hear her well enough. ‘The neighbour reports seeing a car parked in the private lane when she went out shopping this morning, and noticed it was still there when she returned – a dark-blue BMW.’

‘I don’t suppose she noticed its number plate?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir. She didn’t appreciate its significance.’

‘No, they never do, do they?’ he sighed. ‘All right, thank you, Constable,’ he said, and she left.

‘A dark-blue BMW?’ I repeated. ‘That was the car that Vlad—’