When Simon’s finished reading the column, he walks slowly towards her. Stopping by her side, he says, ‘You didn’t like the bit about books being the words and not the physical objects, did you, Isobel? If books are no more than words, who needs bookshops? Like Rudolphy’s. Thanks to the opinion you’ve just heard from Sondra Halliday – thanks to people coming to believe en masse that books are only the words – Rudolphy’s, your family’s shop, is now this Indian restaurant.’

Okay, try to keep up, Tribbeck. The Khaybar Curry House used to be a bookshop called Rudolphy’s. And … Isobel’s family owned it? Which means Liam’s family did too.

Simon’s eyes are fixed on Isobel. His voice continues hypnotically. ‘When I interviewed you before, you wouldn’t tell me the truth. If you did, everything would be ruined, you said. I now understand what you meant by that. You know why you killed five people. In your mind, you had a powerful reason for doing what you did. You can conjure up a fantasy in which you explain in good faith, and it all comes out as you want it to, and the world understands. But in reality – certainly in our first interview when you were scared, facing police suspicion for the first time – you lacked confidence. You feared that if you told me why you’d committed the murders, I’d dismiss you as out-and-out crazy, and then the true purpose and meaning of your actions would be lost. Wasted. Isn’t that right?’

Isobel. Isobel Sturridge. She’s Billy Dead Mates. Simon Waterhouse has just said so, unequivocally. Faith Kendell.

Which means there’s something I need to ask her, and it can’t wait.

‘Isobel, were you planning to kill me?’ I say. ‘Would you still if you could?’

‘No.’ Her eyes widen. ‘I swear on my life, Kim. I mean, yes, I was, but—’

‘Did you murder my grandmother?’ Drew asks, cutting her off.

Of course. Because Marion’s life is so much more important to him than mine.

Isobel flinches. ‘Yes,’ she whispers.

Liam expels a heavy sigh, as if having his sister admit to murder is an inconvenience he hadn’t bargained for.

‘Please.’ Simon holds up a hand. ‘I know it’s hard, but if you could all remain silent unless prompted by me, this’ll go quicker.’

Drew makes a whistling noise like an angry kettle. ‘She’s just admitted to murdering Marion and you’re trying to shut me up? What is this “All gather round, speak when you’re spoken to” pantomime anyway? This isn’t the denouement of a TV drama – it’s real life. Real death! My beloved grandmother’s, to be specific.’ He wants everyone to understand he’s the main victim here.

‘If it were a TV drama, your lines would be better,’ I tell him.