‘Greater…’ Her voice trails off, and she starts to cry. Robin reaches for a tissue box on the side and hands it to her.

The wife dabs at her eyes. ‘Was he alone?’ she asks.

‘We don’t know at this stage. We’re still investigating his death. Do you know if he was seeing anyone else?’ he asks quietly.

She shakes her head, a quick movement, over and over.

Robin waits for a moment, watching Amy Miller cry. Poor woman, he thinks. It’s a lot to take in. First the news that your husband’s dead, then that he died in such a way. Alone in an anonymous purple-tinged hotel room, cheap leather belt round your neck, wanking in order to— In order to what? he wonders. Have a slightly better orgasm? Was that worth the price he had to pay?

‘Do you know if your husband had tried anything like this before?’

‘No, that’s not something I’d want to get involved in, absolutely not,’ she replies, still staring at the floor.

Not the question I asked, he thinks, but he lets it go.

‘And when did you see him last?’

‘Yesterday morning. He was working from home Monday, and then had a meeting at one of the other offices today so drove up last night. He works at Synaptics, in town.’ She twists the rings on her left hand and the diamond catches the light. It’s big and bulky, worth a bit, Robin guesses, not that he has any experience in these things. ‘At least, I thought that’s where he was.’

‘So he has a car with him?’

‘Yes, a black Mazda.’

She recites the number plate, then starts crying again. Robin knows he’s not going to get much more out of her today.

‘Can I call someone for you?’ he asks.

She shakes her head.

‘Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone.’

‘I’ll call my sister after you’ve gone,’ she replies, and Robin gets up to leave.

‘Can I see him?’ she says, looking up at him through her tears. Her voice is wet with snot.

‘Yes, of course.’ Robin digs in his pocket and hands Amy a card. ‘Please call me and we’ll arrange for you to come in. You’ll need to formally identify the body.’

The wife wipes her eyes with a corner of the tissue then scrunches it up in a small ball in the middle of her palm. She stands up, waiting next to him. He gets the feeling she wants him to leave, and he doesn’t blame her.

‘We’ll need to ask you some more questions later,’ Robin adds. He walks to the front door, the wife trailing behind him. ‘Before you go, do you know the unlock code for his phone? It would help us a lot at this stage. To get a picture of what he was doing before he died.’