Richard felt the seat flex as the man lifted his weight to stand. Richard sighed. ‘It’s fine, OK. I don’t mean to snap. I like the sentiment. My wife would have liked it even more. She was into all that … do-gooding crap.’

The man laughed. It left his face as a whirl of mist. ‘None taken.’

‘I don’t need cheering up, thank you. I’m not sure you have the ability to improve this situation anyway.’ He gestured at Angela.

‘So, she was your wife?’

‘Still is, you could say.’

‘You could.’

‘I’m not sure you would be any good at cheering up mourners anyway, friend. You don’t seem to have the nuance of language.’ Richard laughed this time. He wasn’t sure where it came from but it was genuine. The man sat back down; he was laughing too.

‘You’re right. Subtlety isn’t one of my strengths,’ he said. Richard was just about to admit that it wasn’t his either, especially when he was here, especially when he just wanted to be left alone. But the man’s next words stole his ability to speak at all.

‘I know who killed your wife, Richard. There might be a subtle way of saying that but I’ve always been the same when it comes to important things: just say what you need to say.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Richard managed when his breath came back.

‘The hit-and-run with the stolen car. She was just out for a walk with your dog. Well, her dog really; Missy, right? That’s what your wife named her, it was the first thing she said when one of the dogs ran out of the litter and right to her feet.’

‘How could you …?

‘The police found the car burned out. They had a few suspects at one time. A group of mates, but they all had their stories straight, didn’t they? It wasn’t going anywhere. They didn’t even get it to a courtroom. In a couple of weeks it will be a year to the day since she took that walk and never came back. I think you deserve to know.’

‘Who are you?’ Richard’s voice shook with anger. The man was sitting differently now, no longer cross-legged with his limbs pulled in tight to combat the cold. Now the man was leaning back against the frozen slats, his legs apart, his hands by his side. He looked bigger suddenly, broader. He bit his bottom lip like he was considering his reply.

‘I’m an investigator by trade, Richard, and I shouldn’t be here.’

‘What do you mean you shouldn’t be here?’