He stuffed two forkfuls into his mouth in quick succession, then said, ‘Why’s Kim Tribbeck still alive? Little white book means rapidly approaching death for all the others, so what makes Kim different? Unless it’s important to her to look like a potential victim. Because otherwise you might think Billy’d make sure to kill her pronto, if she saw his face.’

Simon passed the plate the waitress had put down in front of him to Sam. Sam always volunteered to be last; it got on everyone’s nerves. ‘Take it and shut it,’ Simon told him. To Gibbs, he said, ‘You think Kim Tribbeck, famous comedian, might be a serial killer?’

‘No. But only because I’ve met her and … it’s not her, I don’t think, but there’s no reason in theory why a famous person shouldn’t be a murderer. Maybe some of the impulses that make these people seek out fame could also make them more likely to kill. Egotism, the idea that everyone should do their bidding.’

‘Monster Munch,’ Sellers murmured without moving his lips.

‘Fuck off, Dong-caster.’ Gibbs picked up the empty peanut packet on the table and dropped it into Sellers’ pint.

‘Kim Tribbeck’s a well-known TV face,’ said Sam. ‘She’s always popping up on some panel show or other. If your doorbell rang unexpectedly and you found her outside …’

Sam broke off while two waitresses put the remaining plates down on the table.

‘I wouldn’t let her in,’ Simon said once they’d gone. ‘I’d look around for hidden cameras. Whether I could see them or not, I’d slam the door.’

‘That’s you, mate,’ said Gibbs. ‘Most people’d be excited a celeb was asking to come in and talk to them in their homes. They’d assume their life was about to take a turn for the more glamorous, probably – maybe that they were about to be offered some sort of TV opportunity.’

‘Which is what happened,’ said Proust briskly. ‘They ended up on the news. They’re all big names in the media now. For crying out loud!’ Sometimes there were warning rumbles before one of his rage avalanches; on other occasions, they came from nowhere, startling everyone.

‘We need to rein ourselves in before we lose our bearings.’ The Snowman slammed his pint glass down on the table. We’ve got nothing, so we’re inventing things that ought to embarrass us. Sandra Halliday, Kim Tribbeck – we don’t seriously believe either of these women is a killer of four people, do we?’ The wrong answer, his manner made clear, would disgust him forever.

Simon decided to brave it. ‘We don’t know. It’s more likely to be the man at the gig who gave Tribbeck the white book, but anything’s possible.’