Jonah nodded and rose. ‘We’ll see if anyone else heard anything. I might have a few more questions at some point, but I hope we won’t be too long here.’

‘That’s OK,’ Louise said.

Hanson got to her feet, too, and looked down at Louise’s shivering form. ‘Let me make you a tea before I head out.’

‘Oh, thank you.’ Louise’s expression was a little pained. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to …? Everything’s in particular places, you know.’ And then she made an obvious effort to smile. ‘But that would be nice. If you’re sure.’

There were people, O’Malley had always found, who could obstruct justice without even trying to. The woman who lived in number nine Saints Close was one of those. A stubborn, slightly self-righteous forty-something named Pamela, she stood on the doorstep, flatly refusing to wake her husband for questioning, and yet simultaneously trying to tease out information on the events next door.

‘Well, I suppose it’s some kind of violence, then?’ she said, as an ambulance drew up slowly behind the paramedics’ car.

‘I’m afraid we really can’t comment,’ Lightman said patiently, for what must have been the third time, while O’Malley leaned his substantial frame against the wall with a feeling of his life draining away. He was too old for this stuff, and it was too cold for it as well. ‘You said your husband was woken up a lot in the night …?’

‘Yes. So I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it down.’ She peered towards the road. ‘Was it Niall, then? Has he attacked his wife?’

‘Do you have reason to expect that?’ Lightman asked.

The neighbour – Pamela – fixed Lightman with a defensive look. ‘Well, it’s generally what happens, isn’t it?’

In the end, O’Malley stepped in. ‘Listen. You can see this is a serious crime. We need your help. If your husband heard anything, we need to know. It could make all the difference.’

At his long, imploring look Pamela finally relented. ‘All right.’ She opened the door properly behind her. ‘But after that, you leave him in peace, all right?’ And then she called, ‘Phil! Phil, the police need to see you. Sorry, love.’

O’Malley was a little disappointed by the quiet, slightly overweight man in blue tartan pyjamas who descended the stairs. He’d expected someone thuggish and intimidating.

Phil’s account was fairly disappointing, too. He’d been woken by a slammed door at some time after two. He thought it had come from Louise and Niall’s house, but wasn’t sure. He was pretty sure he’d stayed awake until five thirty, and hadn’t heard anything else.