‘You were talking to Mr Huff?’ Alys interrupts, sharply. ‘About Orla?’

‘No. No. I was just … I was having a sauna and he dropped by at the house to return the rent money. I was just … It was all very … very odd, really.’

How to explain it?

‘Mr Huff was … You were … Are you saying that he was in the sauna? With you? You were in the sauna together?’

‘No. Well, yes, but it was … it wasn’t … he was behaving very strangely, Alys. That’s actually why I—’

‘You, in a sauna, stark naked, with a virtual stranger?!’ Alys finds this difficult to digest.

‘He just barged on in there. I don’t think he quite realized …’

‘This just suddenly feels all … all wrong,’ Alys mutters. ‘I’m going to get in touch with Father Tierney again and warn him off. In fact I truly, truly regret giving Mr Huff his address now.’

‘You gave Mr Huff Father Hugh’s address?’ I’m shocked.

‘Yes. And by way of thanks he’s phoning me at all hours and taunting me. Who knows why?’

‘I really don’t think …’ I start off.

‘You mustn’t be taken in by him, Carla,’ she warns me, ‘you’ve held out all these years. Kept schtum. There must be a good reason for that, surely? Why suddenly change the habits of a lifetime now?’

‘But I really don’t think … it’s just not like that, Alys,’ I insist. ‘Mr Huff told me that he’d only been persuaded to write the book in the first place because Kimberly had begged him to. He wasn’t at all keen on the idea to begin with. So now that she’s dead he’ll probably just … And if you remember, he didn’t approach me. He hasn’t approached me. In fact when I mentioned the Clearys earlier – in the sauna – it was like … it was as though he couldn’t bear to hear anything about them. It was like it almost made him … made him panic. It was very odd, Alys—’

‘But that’s what he does, don’t you see?’ she interrupts. ‘That’s precisely what he did with me! He kept pretending that he didn’t actually want to know anything, that I was just … just unburdening myself to him, unnecessarily, but in actual fact he was …’

‘But now that Kimberly’s dead …’ I persist.

‘Are we sure of that?’ Alys demands. ‘We don’t even know for certain that she is his wife, God rest her poor soul.’

I can hear Alys crossing herself.

‘But, Alys, she must’ve given him permission to use the—’

‘He could’ve stolen the photos, Carla!’ Alys speculates, wildly. ‘Mr Huff might be a refugee from justice for all we know! On the run from the FBI. And that’s why they’re leaving rotting sharks under his bed!’

‘Alys, I left the shark under his bed.’ I laugh, amused but still quite shocked.

‘Well good for you!’ she exclaims.

Slight pause.

‘I think my soup might be splashing over on to the hob,’ she mutters.