‘Thank you, Miss Shah,’ said Buttler, brushing off the anger he perceived and now breezy again. ‘I’m grateful to you and Mr Duke for allowing me this conversation.’ He stood up and they followed suit. ‘If you have any reason to change your mind or your memory produces any further recollections, just give me a ring.’ He took out two cards and gave one to each of them. ‘You know where to find me.’ He ushered them out of the room, through the CID office and shook hands at the front lobby. ‘As I say, I’m always here.’

Sara and Patrick left the station in silence, neither wanting to speak first.

‘I try not to see wickedness,’ she finally said, ‘but sometimes I despise this world.’

‘Coffee,’ said Patrick, nodding to a café over the road. They wove their way between stationary traffic to the opposite pavement. ‘I’ll get.’ She sat down on a plastic-cushioned chair at an unwashed melamine table. ‘The waitress will bring them.’ He sat opposite and forced a smile; she didn’t return it.

She gave him the headlines of her conversation with Iona Morahan. ‘I always had this feeling,’ she said, ‘there was something buried within Sir Francis. Even though I could never have imagined what it was.’

‘God,’ said Patrick. ‘What bastards they were. It was pure blackmail.’

‘Yes. Illegal and unforgivable.’ She paused. ‘Iona’s confession to me was in confidence. I suppose I’m breaking it telling you. But it means I can’t use it to refute Buttler. Mind you, he’d probably say his Lordship liked it both ways.’

Patrick frowned. ‘Yes, he probably would.’

‘So…’ she said. ‘I’ve been set up.’

‘Maybe. But, if so, it’s a frightener. In the end, the evidence would never hold.’

‘You’re being too imprecise.’ She was curt, almost hostile.

‘Let’s work it out. Forget paranoia and all that. Explore every angle.’

She looked down at her coffee, warming her hands on the cup. Though the day was balmy, she shivered. ‘Go on.’

‘Someone has to have been with Morahan for whatever sex act took place.’

‘Assuming there was one. The medical cleanser could be a feint.’

‘That’s smart.’ He paused. ‘A suffocation dressed up as an auto-erotic accident.’

‘Yes. Another tack. I hate myself for asking this. How well do you know Rayah?’

‘If you’re hinting at that, I never picked anything up over the past months.’

‘She’s full-on,’ said Sara. ‘Say he did go both ways – she might not think twice about giving an influential man what he wanted in exchange for a favour.’

‘Not like you then,’ said Patrick with the familiar grin. He intended it lightly but she remained stony-faced. ‘Sorry, Sara, I was just trying—’

‘You don’t need to “try” with me.’ The silence returned.

‘I’m just a bloody idiot sometimes.’