‘You really must stop saying that. Mr Howard can’t have done it.’

‘Oh, you mean because he was at choir practice?’

‘How on earth do you know that?’

‘After Antonia told me about the argument in his office, I went and talked to Elliot Howard.’

‘You did what?!’

‘I had to see him for myself.’

‘Was that wise?’

‘If we only did what was wise, nothing would ever get done, would it? Anyway, that’s when he told me he’d been at choir practice when I heard the gunshot.’

‘Yes, he said the same to me.’

‘Oh, so you’ve spoken to him, have you?’

‘I had to follow up on the lead after you’d told me about him.’

‘I bet you didn’t like him, did you?’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s his tone, isn’t it? Like he’s playing with us.’

DS Malik was about to agree with Judith before she caught herself.

‘Less of this “us” if you don’t mind, Mrs Potts. I’m happy to talk to you as the witness who found the body, and because you knew the deceased. But you mustn’t go around thinking you can do the work of the police.’

‘Of course,’ Judith said. ‘That’s your job, I completely understand. But tell me, have you found the gun yet?’

‘What’s that?’

‘I imagine you’ve not, have you?’

DS Malik didn’t immediately know what to say.

‘You see! There’s no suicide note and no gun! Because the murderer took it away with him afterwards. And even if Elliot Howard was at choir practice when Stefan was killed, he’s still involved. Somehow. I’m sure of it. Is it possible he hired a hitman?’

‘I don’t think that’s likely.’

‘But it’s a possibility, isn’t it?’

‘Mrs Potts, Marlow’s won the “Best in Bloom” prize every year for the last seven years. And the last time I was called to an incident there, it was because two swans were taking a walk down the High Street and had stopped the traffic. I can promise you, there are no hitmen in Marlow.’

The door banged open and an out-of-breath police officer stuck his head into the room.

‘Sarge, a guy’s just been shot dead in Marlow.’

Chapter 9

The murder had happened in a bungalow on the Wycombe Road, a perfectly ordinary street that linked Marlow to High Wycombe with suburban houses on both sides and smart hedges and cars on driveways.

Once she arrived, DS Malik got out and saw a squad car already at the scene, lights flashing. It was parked on the driveway next to a white van and an old Prius that she could see had a taxi’s licence plates.

There was a male police constable guarding the front door.