And that was the key. Joan Travis told a secret. ‘He liked to watch me dance.’

A pause. The two detectives stayed silent.

Latimer’s grip tightened ever so slightly on the girl’s hand.

‘He liked me to wear the dress and to dance around in it. Right here in the living room. First … first of all, he asked me to close the curtains.’

Hobbes groaned. He couldn’t help it.

‘Carry on,’ Latimer said. ‘Don’t let anything worry you.’

Joan nodded, more to herself than anything. ‘He watched me dance. He put a record on the gramophone, that one over there, usually a waltz, or something old, like a nice romantic tune. It sounded very crackly. Very slow … like a dream … and I danced. I danced. Around and around the carpet, just following the music, making it up as I went along.’

Latimer still had hold of Joan’s hand. ‘What did Leonard do?’

‘He sat in the armchair over there and he watched me, and he smiled. And sometimes … sometimes he would direct me, tell me what to do, which movements to make, like I was on the stage.’

‘And then?’

‘And then the music stopped. The needle would make this repeated hissing noise, but Leonard seemed to be frozen. And he didn’t want me to move either, so we both just sort of stayed like that for a while. It was like a magic spell. A spell in the daytime.’ She paused. ‘I think he was lost in the past. Far away, far away …’

For a moment no one spoke.

Joan’s expression had softened. Her head was tilted to one side.

‘Did you dance again for him?’

‘Yes, a few times. Not many. I got the feeling that each time he was happy, but that each happiness lasted only for a while. And then …’

‘That makes sense.’ Latimer thought for a moment. ‘You said you knew the story of the dress.’

‘Only a little. Leonard said it had been made by his daughter, Camilla. That Camilla made all of the dresses.’

Hobbes asked, ‘Did Leonard ever mention where Camilla was living?’

‘Ooh, it speaks.’

‘Joan … ignore him. It’s me you’re talking to. Just me.’

‘OK, fair enough, I’d prefer that.’

‘Me too.’

‘Can’t we ask him to leave?’

‘Sadly, no.’

Joan frowned. Then she said, ‘I think Leonard mentioned Southend one time. The seaside.’

‘In regards of Camilla?’

‘What?’

‘That’s where Camilla was living?’

‘Who knows? Maybe. Is it that important? Oh, right, she’s the killer.’ The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, God! She killed her own brother! That’s incredible. I wish I had a brother, I bet we’d hate each other.’

Hobbes and Latimer looked at each other. They didn’t need to speak.

‘This is good, Joan. You’re being very helpful.’ Latimer smiled to put the girl at ease. Then she asked, ‘Did you see any other dresses around the house, similar to the one Mr Graves gave you?’

‘Of course I did. He had a whole load of them, didn’t he, in a wardrobe upstairs.’