‘OK,’ Grace said and glanced at his watch. It was 7.02 p.m. ‘If you could please tell us your movements since 3 p.m. today?’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve been attending an IT seminar in Hastings for the past two days, which finished at lunchtime. There was no point going to the office – I work up at Croydon, as you know – so I took the afternoon off and went to Waitrose in Brighton to do my weekly shop. Then I came home, unpacked everything and began preparing our evening meal.’

Grace, focused on her eyes, asked, ‘You work for the Mutual Occidental Insurance Company?’

‘I do, yes. Your friend here knows this, I saw her there this week.’

‘With Mrs Eden Paternoster?’

‘Correct, yes.’

‘Did you go anywhere else during this time, this afternoon, Mrs Watkins?’

She shook her head. ‘No, like I said, I was here preparing supper.’

‘And your husband would be able to confirm that?’ Polly said.

Both detectives saw the hesitation in her face. ‘He only came home at about 6 p.m. and then went straight out for a run.’

‘What time did you go to Waitrose this afternoon?’ Grace asked.

‘I don’t know – around 3 p.m.’

‘And how long were you in the store?’

‘Half an hour – maybe forty minutes.’

‘Then you came back home?’ he continued.

The hesitation again. ‘Yes.’

‘The CCTV in the Waitrose store would be able to confirm the time you arrived and left,’ Grace said. ‘Are you sure you came straight back home?’

‘Yes, of course, I had stuff that needed to go into the freezer. What is this about?’

Grace reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a series of photographs, which he laid, facing her, on the coffee table. She was good, he thought, with sneaking admiration, she barely twitched a muscle. She just looked at them, completely dispassionately.

‘You can see in the first photograph a black-and-white Range Rover Evoque, the licence plate is the same as the one parked on your driveway. Is that your vehicle, Mrs Watkins?’

‘Yes.’ Still defiant.

‘And is that you in the other photographs?’

‘Yes.’

‘These were taken at approximately 5.30 p.m. today in the car park at Devil’s Dyke. You say you were at home all afternoon, after returning from Waitrose, that’s correct, is it?’

‘Obviously not,’ she said. ‘I forgot about that bit.’

Grace glanced at Polly. ‘We’re not here to make any moral judgements, Mrs Watkins. We are investigating the disappearance of Mrs Eden Paternoster, the wife of the man in these photographs with you. We believe she may have been murdered. You and Mrs Paternoster are work colleagues – you are her line manager, if I understand correctly.’

‘You do.’

‘Are you aware that Niall Paternoster, her husband, is a prime suspect in our murder enquiry?’

‘It’s been all over the news,’ she retorted. ‘It was front page on the Argus yesterday and headlined on Radio Sussex and BBC television. But if you think Niall was responsible, you are very wrong. He’s a sweet man who wouldn’t harm anyone.’