‘Ah, I thought I saw his car outside. We wouldn’t have disturbed you if we’d thought you were planning to take the day off.’ She walked further into the house, looking round her. ‘Is Mr Enderby around?’ She made the question casual, but Kate could tell it was important.

‘He went out,’ Kate said.

‘Oh?’ Still the pretence that it didn’t really matter. ‘But his car’s still there.’

‘He got the Metro into town.’

‘Did he say where he was going?’ Vera’s eyes were sharp as tacks and there was no mention now of Kate cooking breakfast for her. It seemed that was just a pretext to get through the door.

‘Some library? Something about getting a fix, a visit to a proper place for books to be cherished, before he heads south tomorrow.’ George had mentioned it at breakfast, but Kate hadn’t taken much notice.

‘The Lit & Phil Library?’

‘Yes!’ Kate thought the inspector must be some sort of witch to have guessed that right. ‘How did you know?’

‘It’s where book-lovers hang out.’ Vera flashed her another smile. ‘And the lonely and the slightly mad. I should know. I’m a member myself.’ Another pause. ‘Can you show Joe here into Mr Enderby’s room? I need to get back to work.’

Kate hesitated. She found it hard to stand up to the fat detective. ‘But I can’t do that. It’s an invasion of his privacy.’

‘It’s your house, pet. Give us permission and we don’t need a warrant.’

They stood for a moment staring at each other, and finally Kate gave in. She didn’t owe George Enderby anything and, if he was involved in these murders, then it was her duty to help the police. She wondered what Stuart would make of it. Surely he would agree too. And perhaps there’d always been something a bit odd about the man, something a bit unsettling.

Kate went into the kitchen to fetch her keys and, when she returned, Vera Stanhope had disappeared. It was hard to imagine that such a big woman could move so quickly or so lightly. The sergeant followed her up the stairs and waited in silence while she opened the door. She thought he would send her away, but he nodded for her to go in first. Perhaps he needed her there as a witness. Kate hadn’t been in to make up the room yet, but it was tidy as always, the duvet folded back to air the bed, the cup on the tray next to the kettle.

George’s holdall was open on the floor in the corner. It seemed that he hadn’t really bothered to unpack this time, and that was unusual. Normally he hung up his work shirts and his jacket as soon as he arrived. ‘If you’re a salesman, Kate, first impressions count.’