‘I had a lunch engagement with a professor of English from a very exclusive language college in Rome. There’s a post available and I have applied for it. It’s a full-time job and it pays well.’ There was a hint of hostility in her voice. ‘Usually I took Tania out on Sunday mornings. To Mass. They were Catholics, you know. I’m not, but I took her anyway. She seemed to get something out of it.’

Bannerman nodded. ‘And that’s why whoever it was that clobbered me expected the house to be empty.’

She picked up her glass and half-emptied it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought that maybe you thought I . . .’ She stopped. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No.’ He leaned forward and refilled both their glasses, a slight, sharp intake of breath as the pain returned to his outstretched arm.

‘Why would anyone want to kill Mr Slater?’ she said suddenly.

Bannerman passed her the glass. ‘Because he was blackmailing Robert Gryffe. Because someone else felt threatened and decided that the best way out was to kill them both. Then he came here to get whatever it was that gave Slater a hold over Gryffe. And maybe cash, if there was any in the safe.’ If he said it often enough he might believe it. He took in her look of incredulity.

‘But how can you possibly know that?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t. But it fits with the known facts.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘It’s easier to believe than what you’re going to read in tomorrow’s evening papers.’

She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The Interior Minister is going to make a statement tomorrow announcing that the police are satisfied that Slater and Gryffe shot each other during some private quarrel. The case is already closed.’

She said nothing, raising her glass slowly to her lips and sipping at it several times. She got up and walked to the window, and stood tracing patterns with her finger in the fine condensation. Outside the snow still fell, brushing the glass, lining the ledge. ‘A cover-up?’ Her voice was quiet and the words were almost lost.

‘Perhaps.’ Bannerman replaced his glass on the table and went to the window, standing behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

‘But why?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘I have no idea. But I mean to find out.’

She turned then to face him, her eyes turned up to meet his. ‘It’s so unfair.’