Jonathan looked puzzled. ‘I never wrote him a letter. How could I when I don’t know where he lived.’

‘Do you know his widow?’ Geraldine asked suddenly.

For the first time, Jonathan looked startled. ‘His widow?’ he repeated. ‘What about his widow?’

Geraldine sensed that she had somehow rattled him, although she wasn’t sure why. Before she could continue, Jonathan spoke again.

‘I do know his widow. That is, I know who she is. She used to accompany him to his public meetings, although goodness knows why. It’s not like she was on the council or anything. It seemed as though she just went along because she was his wife.’

Geraldine nodded. She had seen images of David Armstrong arriving at meetings in libraries and church halls, with his wife at his side. She was clearly keen to be seen to support him. Geraldine wondered for whose benefit she was demonstrating her loyalty to her husband.

‘How do you know who she was if you didn’t know them personally?’ Ian enquired.

‘She went to meetings with him,’ Jonathan replied. ‘I saw her there. And anyway, you’ve only got to look him up online to see them together.’

‘So you admit you looked him up online?’

‘What if I did?’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘How else was I going to find out where he was next appearing in public?’

‘You admit you were stalking him?’

‘I wasn’t stalking him, I just needed to find out where he was speaking so I could attend the meetings and express my opposition. It’s what we do in a free society. We do still have free speech in England. And yes, I admit, I tried to get other people who were opposed to his policies to come to the meetings as well and voice their opinions with me. The more people we could get to heckle him, the better. We needed to show people that there is another way.’

‘By throwing eggs at his car?’ Ian asked. ‘Risking causing a serious traffic accident?’

The lawyer shook her head, indicating that her client shouldn’t answer, but Jonathan ignored the silent warning.

‘It wasn’t just me. And yes, that was stupid, but it was done in a fit of anger because he refused to listen to our demands.’

‘A fit of anger,’ Ian repeated thoughtfully, ‘in a man who admits he deliberately set out to orchestrate a hate campaign against David Armstrong?’

Jonathan sighed. ‘You’re not listening, are you? It was nothing personal. I was never attacking Armstrong himself; it was his policies we were protesting about. If he’d backed down and stopped closing public services, I’d have cheerfully clapped him on the back and bought him a pint. But he didn’t.’

‘And now he’s dead,’ Geraldine said.