Milward let out the breath she’d been holding in several short bursts. ‘We found it in the boot of Seed’s car,’ she said. ‘Abberton. It’s too weird for my taste, but it’s got something to it—not like most of the rubbish that’s peddled as art these days.’

Simon shook his head, trying to take it in. No, that couldn’t be right. Seed might abandon his car—Simon had told Milward this morning why he’d do that—but not the painting, not once he’d removed it from the house after killing Crowther, knocking her teeth out with a hammer and replacing them with picture hooks. Abberton was crucial. It had to be. No way he’d have left it in the boot.

Think. Seed gave Crowther the picture—he must have done. Then he killed her and took it back. Why? That part had never made sense, not really. Why had Simon allowed himself to overlook it for so long?

‘Stephen Elton says there’s no way Len, aka Aidan Seed, would have killed Gemma.’ Milward’s voice seemed to come from a distance. ‘Says the three of them were close friends. Seed slept on their sofa regularly rather than drive home late—and no, he and Gemma weren’t having an affair, before you ask. Elton was adamant Gemma would never be unfaithful—saw it as being beyond the pale. As opposed to nearly torturing a woman to death,’ she added tersely, ‘which doesn’t seem to have troubled her conscience unduly. I’ve seen Elton lie and I’ve seen him tell the truth, and he was telling the truth when he said that.’

‘I never thought Crowther and Seed were having an affair,’ said Simon. He’d seen the way he’d looked at her as they walked down the street together. It wasn’t how a lover would have looked at her; Simon knew that for sure, despite never having been anyone’s lover. Are you a virgin, Simon? Charlie had asked him once, years ago. He didn’t give her an answer, still hadn’t.

His phone rang in his pocket.

‘Go ahead,’ said Milward. ‘If it’s Zailer . . .’

‘It isn’t.’ Simon was relieved to see Chris Gibbs’ name on his screen instead of Kombothekra’s. Surprised too. He listened to what Gibbs had to say, keeping his replies to the absolute minimum, aware of Milward’s eyes on him.

‘Everything all right?’ she asked, seeing him put his phone back in his pocket.

Simon’s best ideas always arrived in a rush, like a shot of adrenalin to the brain. This one was no different. ‘What came first, Crowther’s death or the mutilation of her mouth?’ he asked.

‘The removal of the teeth was post-mortem. Why? What are you thinking?’

‘What about the weapons: gun, hammer, the knife used to cut back her lips? Have you found any of them?’