He honestly did feel stupid though, both for not following this up sooner and for how strange this would seem to whoever answered this door. Pretend you’re in a play. His mum had used to say that to him, as a kid, when his dad was on one of his furies: rampaging, angry about work, breaking things and raging chaotically around the house.

He knocked on the door. Immediately a dog started to yap, low and protective. “Bailey!” a woman yelled. “Bailey! Enough!”

The door opened and a woman stepped forward. She was holding a tea towel in one hand and her other was spattered in soap. “I asked you to ring me when you were here.” When Scott didn’t answer, she said, “Aren’t you the delivery driver?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Then what…”

This was so stupid. He didn’t know how to start. “I noticed your house overlooks the park.”

“Right.”

“I needed to speak to you about something.”

He sounded like a weirdo perv.

She wiped her hand on the tea towel and then folded her arms. “Right.”

“Well, I think my wife might’ve scrawled her name on the wall.” Jesus Christ; when he heard himself say it, he wanted to run away. “I was wondering if you’d ever seen her here before, possibly with another person?”

“I don’t understand.”

“My wife–”

“I don’t spend all day looking out my window. Two kids, a dog who drives me up the wall. Are you bloody serious?”

Scott swallowed. “I think my wife was having an affair. Her name is carved into the wall directly behind your house. There’s another name too, but somebody scratched it away. I was wondering if you’d ever seen her.”

A look passed across the woman’s face; she was thinking of something. It was curiosity and then eyes widening as something hit her, then a smile like she’d just won one hundred pounds on a lottery ticket, then her expression hardened. She wanted nothing to do with it. But there was something.

“What is it?” Scott asked, thinking maybe Harvey was right after all; he wished he had a cross to touch, for an odd second, when he’d never wanted that before. Not even with Natalie.

“I’m not in the habit of helping blokes spy on their wives,” the woman said after a long pause.

Scott took a step forward when she made to shut the door. “But you know something.”

“Are you going to be a problem?” She gestured down the hallway – past dozens of children’s and dog’s toys – to a big bulldog, presumably Bailey. Bailey was sitting a few feet away, teeth bared, barking replaced with a low rumbling growl.

“No.” Scott moved away. “I swear. It’s not like that.”

“No, then what’s it like?”

“She killed herself. My wife. She mentioned the hangman’s tree in her note. I think whoever she was here with, they might know something…”

The woman sighed, glancing into her house, looking at Scott again. “Do you have any idea how weird this is?”