Kate’s voice was urgent, compelling. “Would she? Wouldn’t there have been another cause for jealousy? Particularly when they became adolescents and it was Lucy who had the boyfriends, the attention, the love? You can’t possibly tell what might have happened. We can’t be held morally responsible for the long-term results of all our actions.”

She stopped, her face flushed, and looked across at Dalgliesh. He knew what she was thinking. She had spoken from pity and outrage but in betraying those emotions she had acted unprofessionally. No suspect in a murder case should be led to believe that the investigating officers are on his side.

Now Dalgliesh spoke directly to Collinsby. “I’d like you to make a statement setting out the facts as you have described them. We shall almost certainly need to talk again when we have interviewed Sharon Bateman. So far she has told us nothing, not even her true identity. And if she has spent less than four years living in the community after her release from custody, she will still be under supervision. Please put your private address on the statement—we shall need to know how to reach you at home.” Reaching for his briefcase, he took out an official form and handed it over.

Collinsby said, “I’ll take this over to the desk, the light’s better there,” and sat with his back to them. Then he turned and said, “I’m sorry, I haven’t offered you coffee or tea. If Inspector Miskin would like to make it, everything necessary is next door. This may take some time.”

Dalgliesh said, “I’ll see to it,” and went into the adjoining room, leaving the door open. There was a chink of china, the sound of a kettle being filled. Kate waited a couple of minutes, then went to join him, searching in a small refrigerator for the milk. Dalgliesh carried in the tray with three cups and saucers and placed one with the sugar bowl and milk jug beside Collinsby, who continued writing, and then, without looking at them, stretched out a hand and drew the cup towards him. He took neither milk nor sugar and Kate moved them over to the table, where she and Dalgliesh sat in silence. She felt extraordinarily tired but resisted the temptation to lean back in the chair.

Thirty minutes later Collinsby turned and handed the pages to Dalgliesh. He said, “It’s finished now. I tried to keep it factual. I haven’t attempted any justification, but there is none. Do you need to watch me signing it?”