‘I will,’ I said. ‘I haven’t lost interest – it was just that going to Dearth was a huge interruption, and I was distracted by what you call the mystery from fifteen years ago. I’m beginning to realize there wasn’t a mystery at all – just the usual story of the police not doing a thorough job.’

‘Good.’

‘I’ll get back to the new book tomorrow.’

‘After Spoder has been to the house and given you a new mystery to solve?’

‘No – I want to carry on with what I was doing. I’ll throw him out as soon as I can. And the proofs are here of the last book. I have plenty to get on with.’

‘So you’ll do it?’ Jo said.

‘I will.’

Jo suddenly said: ‘You haven’t mentioned those newspaper links I found. Did you follow them up?’

‘No – not yet.’

I had noticed them, but I skipped over them without searching for them online. They were old URLs that I would have to enter manually, and most of them in all likelihood would have been closed in the years since they went up.

‘There was one that ran an article about Dever Antterland. At the time he was killed he was working as a magician.’

‘What?’

‘A stage magician. He had his own small theatre and ran shows in a holiday resort. I thought that might interest you.’

I loved Jo for the mischief she often played on me.

‘I didn’t see that!’ I said, rising to the bait. ‘Where was it?’

‘I have to go. Their meeting has finished. Get on with your new novel, Todd.’

We said goodbye, broke the connection.

I looked at the first draft of the new novel, but once again it felt arid. I had learned the hard way not to force myself to write when the inner chemistry was wrong. Not an excuse – a pragmatic decision. I read through all the pages I had written before I went away, made some handwritten notes on what would come next, then put it aside. I would try again the next day.

I took a break, walked through the garden, crossed the road and walked down the sward towards the beach. It was mid-afternoon and the sunshine was broiling. I had left the house on an impulse so I had not brought my hat. I stood for a few minutes regarding the familiar scene of the shingly beach, the shining sea with its gentle waves, the tiny offshore islands almost invisible in the glare from the sea, then I turned back and went to the house. I made myself an iced drink, returned to my decked patio and turned on the cooling fan. Later, Barmi joined me, sitting so that his fur was lifted by the flow of air.