Sarah’s stomach rumbled as she stood. For the first time in years, she had left her house without breakfast. Food was no longer part of her every waking thought. She licked the dryness from her lips as she prepared to state her case.

‘Given the content, I can’t say I blame him.’ She threw the journal back onto the desk. ‘What’s your point?’

‘He could be the Midnight Man.’

‘And how did you come to that conclusion?’

Sarah pointed at the journal. ‘I went to school with Elsie. Whoever sent me the letter that’s on the system seemed to know me quite well.’

‘Next reason,’ Yvonne said impatiently. ‘There is more, isn’t there? You’re accusing a young man of murder. You must have more than that.’

‘I do,’ Sarah said, but her reasoning was falling away, and she scratched around in her mind to retrieve all the facts which had been so glaringly obvious after she left Elsie’s house last night. ‘He’s an estate agent. He works for his uncle’s firm. He’s the keyholder for Blackhall Manor, as well as other properties around here. He could have a spare to my house for all I know. It feels like he’s been there.’ Sarah didn’t mention the tablets in her bedside table that she had stockpiled in case things got too much.

‘OK,’ Yvonne said. ‘Is that it?’

‘His fingerprints were found at Blackhall Manor and …’

‘But that relates to your previous point,’ Yvonne interrupted. ‘Given he’s a keyholder tasked with keeping an eye on the place, it would be strange if his fingerprints didn’t show up. It’s in his statement. He goes in, checks the rooms for vagrants, sets the mousetraps. Please tell me you’ve more on him than that.’

I will if you stop interrupting me, Sarah thought. ‘His mum gave him an alibi, but he could have messed with the clock on the wall. She sleeps in the front room. Well, she did, until yesterday.’ Sarah glanced over her shoulder. Her colleagues had their heads down. Some were making notes, others were staring at their computers. But they had to be listening just the same. It seemed a day couldn’t pass without her being berated before her team.

‘So you were there?’ Yvonne continued.

‘I popped in for a personal visit. Elsie’s not been well.’

‘I’m not surprised, given the size of her. That woman has one foot on a banana skin and the other one in the grave. If you ask me …’

‘She’s in hospital,’ Sarah interrupted. ‘Fell down the stairs, according to Christian.’

‘Oh. I see. She’s only young. That is a shame.’ She pulled back her shirt sleeve and looked at her watch. ‘Anything else?’