‘Why were you so afraid of telling your husband what had happened?’

‘I wasn’t –’ Louise gave a short, strange laugh. ‘I already told you.’ Patrick leaned over to murmur something, but she shook her head, impatiently. ‘He hates it when I drink, and I thought he’d think it was my fault somehow. That’s all.’

‘That’s a strange idea,’ Lightman said, interjecting. ‘That the death of a young man was somehow your fault.’

‘I didn’t – what I meant was, he’d say I shouldn’t have been that drunk, or maybe I would have seen something. Stopped it.’ Louise looked close to the fine edge between coping and not coping at all.

‘I would caution you against overanalysing comments made by my client in a state of shock,’ her solicitor said.

‘Did he have some reason for thinking that you were having an affair?’ Lightman pressed, not acknowledging the solicitor.

‘No!’ Louise’s protest was a gasp of outrage. ‘Why would he? I’m bloody devoted to him.’

‘What did he say when you told him what had happened?’ Lightman went on, with an untouched coldness that was impressive.

Patrick Moorcroft shifted in his chair, his gaze moving from Lightman to Jonah. ‘How are these questions related to your inquiry into Alex Plaskitt’s death?’

‘That will become evident,’ Jonah said, firmly, his gaze fixed on Louise. ‘Please carry on, sergeant.’

‘Would you tell us what he said, please?’ Lightman said, evenly.

Louise shook her head, in small, quick, jerks. ‘I don’t know. He just asked – what had happened.’

‘I’m sure you can be more specific,’ Jonah said, his voice a great deal less measured than Lightman’s. Where his sergeant did a wonderful line in being relentlessly unemotional, Jonah’s real skill had always lain in attack. In suddenly bringing out such harsh, scathing tones that it broke suspects down. The deep marks left by his father’s abuse would always have their uses. ‘You claim not to be able to remember Friday night, but yesterday morning, when you called your husband, you were stone-cold sober. So what, exactly, did he say?’

‘He asked – if it was someone I knew …’ Louise said, and then she stopped, and he saw one of those rare, intensely telling expressions. She wasn’t looking at Jonah, though. She was looking towards the wall, with her face a mask of shock.

22

Louise

I realise that telling you about the Italian man at the wedding was something of a sidetrack. If we’re going to continue chronologically, then the next thing to address is the revelation that hit me like a bus earlier today.

I’m not sure quite how it took me so long to realise. I’ve thought back to the phone conversation we had so many times. I’ve thought how heart-breaking it was that you were so ready to believe this was my fault, before there was anything to point in my direction.