‘And yet, someone does win every week.’

‘Sure, but that’s not my point.’

‘I get that, and I hear what you’re saying. But just to follow it through to the end. You said you can see any number of things – I would love to hear what they are. Besides, I actually still have six minutes before you have to go.’

‘Were you always this stubborn?’ Stubbs heaved a sigh but did scan the room again. ‘All right, fine, take the books on the shelf. Why are all the titles in alphabetical order except Man Alive, Redefining Realness and Beyond Magenta?’

‘What? You mean—’

‘I don’t mean anything. But wouldn’t it make more sense to have all your trans literature on one shelf, or, alternatively, placed alphabetically with the other books and not scattered randomly like this? It doesn’t prove anything one way or another. I just find it peculiar. And since we’re on the subject. Those dresses in the wardrobe out there. They’re at least four or five sizes too small, if the idea was for Elvin to wear them.’

‘You’re thinking they didn’t belong to him. That someone else put them there.’

‘That would be the conspiracy theory. Another explanation could be that they did belong to Elvin, and that he was planning to lose weight before potentially having surgery, though I have a hard time picturing that. And there’s one more thing. Come look at this.’

Fabian followed Stubbs, who walked over to the divan at the far end of the room, squatted down and used a small flashlight to illuminate the floor.

‘See the marks?’ She aimed the light at one of the marks on the floor.

‘Sure, I would guess it’s from a sofa or something.’

‘Exactly. Over the years, it’s what happens. Especially if there’s nothing to prevent it.’

Fabian nodded, though he had no idea where she was going with it.

‘But strangely enough, there are neither marks nor pads under the divan.’ She carefully lifted it up to demonstrate.

‘Maybe he got new furniture just before he killed himself so the place would look extra nice for when we came.’