‘No. I knew she’d been out on Saturday, of course. Lindsay left me with the children for a couple of hours. She said she wanted to do some early Christmas shopping, that was all. That was the way she was, you know – she liked to plan ahead.’

‘Which shops did she go to?’ asked Fry.

‘I don’t know. She wouldn’t have told me that.’

‘And she didn’t say anything afterwards?’

Mullen considered it.

‘Come to think of it, I think Lindsay did say she’d chatted to a couple of strangers in a café. I’ve no idea who they were.’

‘Did she mention any names?’

‘No. Of course, she probably didn’t ask them their names, if it was just a casual conversation.’

‘Possibly.’

‘You know what it’s like. You don’t necessarily want to strike up an instant relationship with complete strangers. You’ve no idea what sort of crooks they might be these days. People pretend to be friendly, and they turn out to be con artists after your money.’

‘Did she describe these people at all?’

‘No, why should she? It was only a passing remark, that she’d been chatting to a couple of people. I expect they were just talking about the weather, or the difficulty in finding somewhere to park, or whether the tea was any good. Why would she describe them? It’s as if you’re suggesting it’s Lindsay’s fault she didn’t say anything.’

Seeing Mr Mullen becoming agitated, Fry paused and let him subside.

‘I can’t remember any more than that,’ he said. ‘Do you think these people might have been responsible for the fire?’

‘We don’t know, sir. But it’s very important that you try to remember anything your wife might have said. If it occurs to you who she might have been meeting, or any little details she let slip, please inform us straightaway.’

‘All right. Of course.’

Fry stood up to go. She hadn’t achieved anything by the visit. In fact, she wondered if she’d just given Brian Mullen a get-out for the arson. Mysterious strangers didn’t fit into her scenario.

A pool of light ran slowly over the corpse. It started at the feet and travelled up the legs to a distended stomach. Pale skin showed through burst shirt buttons. The hand holding the Maglite tilted, and the beam moved across the chest, paused at the throat, and finally hovered over the face.

‘Was there a fight in here?’

‘I don’t know. I think this might have been its normal condition.’

The light focused on Ben Cooper’s face. He blinked in the glare and smiled uncertainly.

‘Is it possible to tell how he died?’ he asked. ‘There’s a bruise on his cheekbone, but I suppose he could have got it when he fell.’