She sat on the edge of a settee while I sank into a starkly simple chair. ‘I represent the Western and Continental Insurance Company of London. I’m here to look into the death of David Salton because a lot of money is involved. This is just routine, you understand.’

She nodded. ‘But why come to me? I’m not a beneficiary.’

‘Not with Western and Continental,’ I said. ‘I know that. But I wondered if, perhaps, Mr Salton had taken out insurance with another company in your favour.’

There was a flash of something that may have been anger in her eyes.

‘So you thought that, did you?’

‘You were friendly with Mr Salton?’

The corners of her generous mouth quirked for a moment, then she said stonily, ‘I was.’

I said, ‘Miss Tomsson, don’t get me wrong. I have no interest in this matter other than safeguarding the insurance company. I leave moral judgements to others. Your association with Mr Salton is irrelevant to me – unless it had something to do with the cause of his death. How do you think he died?’

She bent her head and looked down at her hands. ‘Foully,’ she whispered.

‘Do you mean foul play?’

‘I mean the way it happened.’ She lifted her head and her face was paler. ‘To die like that. To die and to rot adrift at sea.’ She looked out of the window at the sharply etched blue horizon. ‘I haven’t swum in the sea since it happened.’

I kept my voice casual. ‘Do you know Mrs Salton?’

She kept her face averted. ‘I’ve not met her. I’ve seen her around.’

‘Did she know about you?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. David wasn’t likely to tell her.’ She turned her face towards me. ‘David was a good man,’ she said quietly. ‘I wouldn’t want his reputation dragged through the dirt. Must this come out into the open?’

‘Not through me,’ I said. ‘Others I can’t tell about.’

She looked a little surprised, and then frowned. ‘By the way, how did you know about me?’ she asked. ‘Who told you?’

‘A man called Joe Hawke.’

She rose abruptly and walked to the window, where she stood looking down at the beach. ‘Hawke will use it,’ she said flatly. ‘He always hated David and everything he stood for. He’ll use this when it suits him.’

‘Why should he?’

‘It’s a weapon, a political weapon. He’ll use it to smear David.’

‘But David Salton’s dead.’

‘What difference does that make? Mud sticks. It will stick to anybody who was close to David. It will stick to the party.’