‘Yes, I suspect you should. And more to the point, I think you did. In fact, it’s our belief that you were there for the same reason everyone else was there.’

‘Which was?’

‘To anticipate how much McFaul would tell us, and to come up with some kind of plan.’

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

‘Of course you do, Ms Andressen. The people round that table, you included, were complicit in Ms Beaucarne’s disappearance. You all knew what had really happened. You all knew where she was buried, doubtless because you’d all helped carry the coffin. That explains this odd gathering around the table. What all of you had in common is the question we need to ask. And the answer, we think, is the night you buried Ms Beaucarne. Isn’t that the truth?’

I’ve thought a great deal about that meal at Bill’s over the last twenty-four hours, and I suspect Bullivant’s got most of it right. Except, of course, for my own role.

‘No comment.’

‘So be it. Let’s move on.’ He turns to Leadbetter. ‘Annie?’

Leadbetter checks a date on her notes, and then looks up. Overnight, she seems to have developed a cold sore on her lower lip.

‘I want to take you on to Sunday the twenty-second of September. That was the end of the week of Ms Beaucarne’s disappearance. There was a gathering on the beach. You were there. Am I right?’

‘Yes. We came to say goodbye.’

‘There was a ceremony of some sort, music, and then some of you went afloat with a wreath. Yes?’

‘Yes. I was asked to say a few words about Christianne.’

‘Really?’ This appears to surprise her.

‘Yes.’

‘After you’d known her for just a couple of days? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

‘Not at all. I’m an actress. I also speak French. This was private but it was an event nonetheless. Bill was the one who asked me to do a reading. It was a performance really. He knows my work. He thought I could do the moment full justice.’

‘And afterwards? After the reading?’

‘We dropped a wreath. There were swimmers in the water, ladies who knew Christianne well. It was very moving.’

‘But what was the point of the wreath?’

‘To mark her passing.’

‘Because she’d drowned?’

‘Of course.’

‘But she hadn’t. And you knew that. Because you’d buried her.’

‘Wrong. I didn’t bury her, didn’t carry the coffin, didn’t supply the drugs, didn’t even know any of that stuff had happened.’

‘And the others? Those people round the dinner table?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘No idea? Not even the faintest suspicion? The faintest doubt?’

‘None. None at all.’

‘Really? And you really expect us to believe that?’

‘I do, yes. Because it’s true.’

Leadbetter holds my gaze for a long moment, then shrugs and makes herself a note.