I took a pull on the Japanese beer and said, ‘Do you know what it does to a murder case if an investigating officer sleeps with a material witness?’

She took a step back. ‘What?’

‘Of course you do,’ I said. ‘Of course you know.’

She had her hands on me and I froze so she stood back, keeping her distance.

‘Max,’ she said. ‘Please.’

Her eyes were shining.

‘Spare me the tears,’ I said.

She angrily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll spare you the tears if you tell me what’s wrong with you. I thought we were going to have a lovely night—’

‘Meeting us on the Heath – that wasn’t a coincidence, was it?’

She looked away.

‘No.’

‘You don’t walk your dog on the Heath, do you?’

‘No.’

‘You don’t walk your dog at all, do you?’

‘No – I’m another rich bitch who gets some little Eastern European scrubber to walk her dog.’

‘And your husband didn’t lose his eye playing rugby, did he?’

‘What?’

‘Your husband. Old Hugo. That story about how he lost his eye. That was all bullshit, wasn’t it?’

She looked genuinely surprised. ‘No, that’s true.’

‘Were you there? Did you see it happen?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then you don’t know, do you?’

‘But I do. I do know.’

Maybe she believed it, I thought. Maybe she really believed in the sports injury lie.

‘What was Ben King doing here?’

She laughed with disbelief. ‘Is that what this is about? You saw Ben leaving? Don’t you think it’s a little early to be getting possessive?’

‘You fucking him too?’

Her open palm cracked hard against my cheek.

The dog sat up, finally looking impressed.

‘I’m not fucking anybody. Especially not you. Ben came to collect some of Hugo’s personal things.’

‘A couple of paintings?’

‘I want you to go now.’

‘What happened at that school?’

‘Please leave.’

‘Do you want to know how your husband lost his eye? Do you really want to know?’

She suddenly seemed very tired.

‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘He’s dead. It doesn’t matter.’

She swallowed hard, and looked around the flat, taking it all in – the candles, the smell of prime beef, Al Green. She ran her hands through her hair. It was all ruined now.

‘You’re using me, Natasha,’ I said. ‘You’re setting me up. You’re telling me lies.’

‘You’re the liar,’ she said, angry at last. ‘You wear a wedding ring but you’re not married.’

‘What happened at that school? What did they do? Who was the girl?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s your wife? What happened to her? You have a ring but no wife? What’s all that about, detective? You liar. You fucking liar.’