Grace jotted down the details. ‘And the second number?’

‘Well, we had to go back a bit further than the time you gave us because it seems either to have been switched off or its battery went flat Thursday evening. At 6 a.m. Thursday, it moved south, down Nevill Road, across the Old Shoreham Road and down to the seafront, where it turned east and continued to the start of Brighton Marina. It then turned back, west, retracing its path to the Nevill Road address. The distance covered was approximately 8.4 miles and the timings indicate the pace to have been a run.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I know it wasn’t in my brief, but I thought it was worth checking the run against a few apps and we discovered that it had been recorded on a Strava app, belonging to Eden Paternoster – the owner of the phone.’

‘Nice work, Velvet!’ Grace said.

‘Thank you. At 7.50 a.m. the phone then moved north to Croydon to an area we’ve identified as the Mutual Occidental Insurance Company. It remained there until 5.45 p.m. when it then headed south, reaching the Nevill Road address at 6.35 p.m. It remained static there until 10.10 p.m. on Thursday, which was the last signal from the phone.’

‘Nothing since then?’ Grace asked.

‘Nothing,’ Wilde confirmed.

He looked at Glenn Branson, who frowned, What?

He nodded back. Then he said, ‘That’s very helpful, Velvet.’

‘Do you need me to plot it further back?’

‘Not at the moment. I’ll let you know.’

‘Sure. Anything else I can help you with?’

‘Not for now – but if you can email me a summary of all this, please.’

‘I’ll ping it across in a few minutes.’

Grace thanked her and ended the call. Frowning, he turned to Branson. ‘What do you make of that?’

‘Eden goes for an early morning run on Thursday – like you often do yourself. Then she drives to work. She drives home that evening. Then her phone goes dead around 10.10 p.m. And stays off. She has a responsible job in IT at a major insurance company, and she clearly uses her phone not just for work but for recreation – like recording her running on Strava. So, let’s say it did die from a flat battery at 10.10 p.m., why would she not charge it all Friday, Saturday and Sunday? Does that make any sense?’

Grace shook his head pensively.

‘Let’s hypothesize for a moment,’ Glenn Branson said. ‘He murders his wife on Thursday night and then plays a charade of a day out at Parham House, ending up with her disappearing at a Tesco store on the way home, apparently going in to buy cat litter. Would he be dumb enough to think we wouldn’t check her phone activity?’

‘You’ve met him,’ Grace replied with a sideways glance. ‘I’m not the world’s leading authority on tattoos, but did you see the one on his arm of the grim reaper?’

Branson grinned. ‘Yeah, let’s hope he’s not acted that out.’