Mrs Wade, who had a round moonlike face, had small red eyes as a result of crying in the back of a police car for nearly four hours. By the time she arrived at the station she was exhausted. Her sister, Francesca, had accompanied her for emotional support. The similarity between the women was startling, and Barrett found himself wondering whether they were twins when he was first introduced to the ladies.

‘Mrs Wade, I am terribly sorry for your loss.’ Barrett, who had lost his own wife, had never been good at dealing with other people’s emotions, but found his heart go out to the tearful woman in front of him.

She dabbed her eyes with a soggy handkerchief as she was led into a relatives’ room to be interviewed.

‘I just can’t believe it.’ Francesca had her arm around her sister. ‘Dennis has gone. They were about to go on a cruise to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary. It’s all so cruel.’

Barrett could see that Francesca was almost enjoying the drama.

‘Take a seat.’ He loosened his tie. It had been a long afternoon.

‘You must tell me the details. The police in Somerset wouldn’t tell me. What happened? Heart attack? I told him to watch his weight,’ she sobbed.

Barrett and Palmer glanced at each other and Palmer readjusted his position in his seat, making the plastic beneath him creak.

‘Mrs Wade, I am very sorry to tell you that your husband did not pass as the result of a heart attack. His body was found in Ashton’s.’ Palmer paused and cleared his throat. ‘We believe that Mr Wade was murdered.’

The elderly women sitting opposite him both stopped, mouths open, and gasped.

‘What do you mean, you think?’ demanded the sister.

‘We are almost certain,’ Barrett said gravely, ‘but we need to wait for the post-mortem to confirm.’

‘Post-mortem?’ Veronica’s beady hazel eyes filled with tears. ‘My Dennis on a slab?’ Her hands began to quiver and she dropped her head to her chest.

‘I understand this is an awful time for you, but I am afraid I have to ask some questions.’ Barrett lent forward, resting his elbows on the desk between them.

‘Can’t you see she’s in pieces?’ Francesca pulled her sister into her bosom and glared fiercely at the inspectors.

‘I understand this is a very difficult time, but a crime has been committed and it is our duty, and our job, to investigate.’ Barrett had met women like Francesca Woodcock before. He knew that she was only trying to protect her sister, as well as exert her authority, but he had no time for her dramatic reactions.

‘We won’t keep you long, but we need some information to help us get a picture of what happened,’ Palmer spoke softly. ‘Mrs Wade, can you tell us when you last saw your husband?’