As Andrew Buckley nods, his eyes narrow very slightly. ‘As I told you, Detective Inspector, there are a number of regulars.’

The DI pauses, but only briefly. ‘Did you know that James Hampton was investing in a business that belongs to Philip Mason?’ As he speaks, he scrutinises Andrew Buckley’s face.

‘I’d heard some vague mention of it, yes.’

‘What exactly did you hear?’

He shrugs. ‘It wasn’t specific. Mason makes a lot of money – I don’t know exactly how – and he was trying to give Hampton a helping hand. It’s obvious the man struggles.’ His brusque, patronising manner does him no favours.

The DI frowns. ‘What did you know about the Hamptons’ finances?’

‘Nothing.’ He stares straight at us. ‘Stephanie didn’t mention anything, if that’s what you’re asking, Detective Inspector.’

And so it goes on. An hour later, we’re none the wiser. On the subject of his relationship with Mason, Andrew Buckley refuses to be drawn, insisting on his story that they see each other only occasionally in the pub. When it comes to Hollie, other than declaring her emotionally unstable, he can supply no reasonable explanation for her behaviour in the surgery.

‘Where were you the day Hollie died, Doctor Buckley?’

There’s a split-second delay before he answers. ‘I took the day off.’

The DI glances at me. ‘What did you do?’

‘I was at home. Catching up on this and that.’

‘I assume your wife or daughter will confirm this?’

Buckley looks uncomfortable. ‘There’s no need for you to speak to them.’ He hesitates. ‘If you must know, I spent the afternoon with Stephanie.’

‘Where, Doctor Buckley?’

‘At her salon. Not that it makes any difference.’

‘Can anyone verify that?’

He visibly tenses, then mutters the words quietly. ‘Not now.’

*

I drive over to see Elise Buckley that afternoon and when she opens the door, she looks as though she hasn’t slept.

‘I really wish I hadn’t started this.’ Overnight, her bruised face has taken on a gaunt look, making her eyes seem even bigger and more desperate. ‘I’ve made everything so much worse.’

‘You haven’t,’ I tell her, knowing her guilt stems from years of brainwashing by her husband. ‘And you haven’t done anything wrong. This is all about your husband. You need to remember that.’

But my words seem to go over her head. ‘Niamh’s beside herself. She went to school, but she’s worried that when she comes out, Andrew will be waiting for her.’