He shifted his gaze, wide-eyed, from Kate to Benton, as if testing which, if either, could be believed. When he spoke his voice was emphatic, the note of hysteria barely suppressed. “Then I’ll tell you one thing. This was no accident. Robin was seriously claustrophobic. He never travelled by air or on the underground. He couldn’t enjoy a restaurant meal if he wasn’t seated close to the door. He was fighting it, but not successfully. Nothing and no one would ever have persuaded him to climb inside a freezer.”

Benton said, “Not even if the lid was propped wide open?”

“He’d never believe that it wouldn’t fall and trap him inside. What you’re investigating is murder.”

Kate could have said that it was possible Boyton had died either by accident or natural causes and that someone, for reasons unknown, had placed his body in the freezer, but she had no intention of swapping theories with Coxon. Instead she asked, “Was it generally known among his friends that he was claustrophobic?”

Coxon was calmer now, still gazing from Kate to Benton, willing them to believe. “Some may have known or guessed, I suppose, but I never heard it mentioned. It’s something he was rather ashamed of, particularly not being able to fly. That was why we didn’t have foreign holidays unless we went by train. I couldn’t get him onto a plane even if I tanked him up at the bar. It was a hell of an inconvenience. If he told anyone, it would have been Rhoda, and Rhoda’s dead. Look, I can’t give you any proof. But you have to believe me about one thing.

Robin would never have got into a freezer alive.”

Benton asked, “Do his cousins or anyone at Cheverell Manor know that he was claustrophobic?”

“How the hell do I know? I’ve never met any of them and I’ve never been there. You’ll have to ask them.”

His composure had cracked. He sounded close to tears. He muttered, “Sorry, sorry,” and fell silent. After a minute, in which he stood still, taking deep regular breaths as if they were an exercise in regaining control, he said, “Robin had taken to going to the Manor more frequently. I suppose it could have come up in conversation, if they were talking about holidays or the hell of London tube trains at rush hour.”

Kate said, “When did you hear about Rhoda Gradwyn’s death?”

“On Saturday afternoon. Robin phoned about five o’clock.”

“How did he sound when he gave you the news?”