‘I know you’ve got much more money than I have,’ said Strike. ‘But, as you rightly point out, that’s not saying much. And I will say for myself that I haven’t yet stooped to embezzling from clients. How much of Conway Oates’s money did you steal before Tony realised what you were up to?’

‘Oh, I’m an embezzler too, am I?’ said Bristow, with an artificial laugh.

‘Yeah, I think so,’ said Strike. ‘Not that it matters to me. I don’t care whether you killed Lula because you needed to replace the money you’d nicked, or because you wanted her millions, or because you hated her guts. The jury will want to know, though. They’re always suckers for motive.’

Bristow’s knee had begun jiggling up and down again.

‘You’re unhinged,’ he said, with another forced laugh. ‘You’ve found a will in which she leaves everything not to me, but to that man.’ He pointed towards the outer room, where he had viewed Jonah’s picture. ‘You tell me that it was that same man who was walking towards Lula’s flat, on camera, the night she fell to her death, and who was seen sprinting back past the camera ten minutes later. And yet you accuse me. Me.’

‘John, you knew before you ever came to see me that it was Jonah on that CCTV footage. Rochelle told you. She was there in Vashti when Lula called Jonah and arranged to meet him that night, and she witnessed a will leaving him everything. She came to you, told you everything and started blackmailing you. She wanted money for a flat and some expensive clothes, and in return she promised to keep her mouth shut about the fact that you weren’t Lula’s heir.

‘Rochelle didn’t realise you were the killer. She thought Jonah pushed Lula out of the window. And she was bitter enough, after seeing a will in which she didn’t feature, and being dumped in that shop on the last day of Lula’s life, not to care about the killer walking free as long as she got the money.’

‘This is utter rubbish. You’re out of your mind.’