‘DCI Hollander,’ I say, as I come down the stairs. ‘And DS Mehdi. Twice in one week. People will talk.’

The two police officers are waiting for me in the hall. Tom is halfway up the stairs, blocking their way, as if physically preventing the detectives from reaching me will somehow protect me. ‘They want to interview you again,’ he says. ‘I’ve told them you’re not saying anything else without a lawyer present.’

‘We have a warrant to search your house, Mr Downton,’ DCI Hollander announces, craning around my husband so he can watch my face.

‘Based on what?’ Tom demands.

‘We have reason to believe your wife is involved in the disappearance of Felix Porter—’

‘This is bloody ridiculous!’ Tom explodes. ‘I told you, my wife has nothing to do with it! Assuming the man’s not sunning himself on the Costa del Sol, it’s Stacey Porter you should be looking at! Why would Millie be involved?’

‘Tom—’

DCI Hollander’s bland expression doesn’t change. ‘By your wife’s own admission, Mr Downton, she had a physical altercation with Mr Porter just a week before he disappeared. We’d like to take a formal statement from her at the station. At this stage, it is still voluntary, although your wife is welcome to seek legal representation. If she cannot afford a lawyer—’

‘Jesus Christ! We’ve been through this! All the evidence you think you have is purely circumstantial! There’s probably a hundred people out there with more reason to wish Felix dead. And you still don’t know if anything’s even happened to him!’

DS Mehdi’s focus is on me even while he addresses Tom. He wants to see how I react. ‘Your wife’s fingerprints have been found at the home of Mr and Mrs Porter—’

‘Well, of course they have! They’re friends, my wife’s been over there a dozen times! If that’s all you’ve—’

‘In Mr Porter’s blood,’ DS Mehdi finishes.

The wind is abruptly taken from Tom’s sails. If I didn’t love him so much, it’d almost be comical to watch.

‘How do you know they’re Millie’s fingerprints?’ Tom demands. ‘She’s not on the police database.’

‘We compared them to a sample taken from Mrs Downton’s running shoes,’ DS Mehdi says placidly. ‘Which she freely gave us.’

‘She didn’t say you could check them for fingerprints!’

‘Tom,’ I say. ‘It’s fine. Let them search.’

‘Millie—’

‘I told you, it’s fine.’

I push past him and head into the kitchen. After a moment, Tom follows me.

‘What’s he talking about?’ he asks, keeping his voice low. ‘They found your fingerprints in Felix’s blood?’