‘Did Sandra say she was abducted?’

‘We’re getting a statement from Mrs Birley now,’ said Fry.

‘Ha! That means she hasn’t said she was abducted.’ Todd turned to his solicitor. ‘She hasn’t made a complaint,’ he said. ‘How can they arrest me?’

‘It’s a good question, Sergeant,’ said the solicitor. ‘What evidence do you have to justify a charge against Mr Todd?’

‘I’ve just told you –’

‘None of what you said constitutes evidence of abduction or unlawful detention. Unless you have a statement to the contrary from the lady you mention. In which case, my client will dispute it.’

‘Mr Todd has some explaining to do,’ said Fry calmly.

‘Not unless –’

Todd held up a hand. ‘It’s OK. Let’s have it sorted out and then I can get out of here.’

‘Go ahead then, Mr Todd. We’re listening.’

‘Well, far from abducting Sandra Birley, I’d arranged to meet her on Tuesday night after work. But she was late. So I went to the Clappergate car park, and I waited for her. When she arrived, we walked to my car, which was parked in New Street. Sandra came home with me and she stayed for three days. And that’s it. Can I go now?’

‘What was the purpose of your meeting?’ said Fry.

‘That’s personal. It’s none of your business.’ He looked at the solicitor again. ‘It’s none of their business, is it? They can’t ask me about that.’

‘The officers can ask. But you’re not obliged to answer.’

‘Were you having an affair with Mrs Birley?’ said Fry.

‘It’s not an affair,’ said Todd. ‘She was coming away with me. Well, coming to live with me. She’s leaving her husband.’

‘She doesn’t seem to have told her husband that.’

Todd shrugged. ‘She would have got round to it.’

The tapes continued to turn in the silence as Fry struggled to contain her anger. For three days she’d been convinced that Sandra Birley had been abducted and murdered by a psychotic killer who was taunting the police with his sick phone calls. She had failed to get in touch with anyone during that time. She would have got round it made her angry. She wondered if she could learn some breathing techniques from Melvyn Hudson.

Now, this was an interesting room. On the middle shelf at about eye level was a six-sided terrarium with stained-glass panels and openings for variegated ivy to trail through. Next to it was a less elaborate container with straight sides and less vegetation, sitting among a selection of coffee-table books and Chinese vases. It wasn’t until he was sitting on the sofa that Cooper noticed the focal point of this terrarium. It was a small chameleon, vivid green and standing perfectly still.