Rosalind looked at her in surprise.

‘I know, I know. I’ve been the one wanting to play detective all along,’ Caro admitted. ‘But even Dahlia knew when to call Johnnie for backup.’

‘Not just yet,’ Rosalind said. ‘We need to be sure. I need to talk to Hugh again. And there’s something else I want to check, up in Letty’s study. But I think I’ve got a plan.’

She hoped it was going to work.

It was dark outside by the time Rosalind found herself making her way up the stairs to Letty’s study. Hugh was already there, as she’d expected. What she hadn’t predicted, though, was the panicked look in his eyes.

His silver hair was disarrayed, as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration, and the shadows under his eyes were almost purple. When he reached for her, his hands were shaking.

‘Rosalind. Thank God. You’ve got to help me.’

‘What’s happened?’ Her hand clutched the doll in her pocket.

‘That detective. DCI Larch. He was up here asking me all sorts of questions.’ Hugh’s gaze met hers, distorted with horror. ‘He thinks I did it. He thinks I killed that girl.’

So does your wife. ‘Did he say that?’

Hugh scoffed. ‘Of course not. They never say that, do they? Not in all the books. He’ll hold his cards close to his chest until he has proof—’

‘How can he find proof?’ Rosalind asked. ‘If you didn’t do it?’

He stared at her for a long moment, and Rosalind found herself thankful for the desk between them. She needed the distance.

‘You think I did it too,’ Hugh whispered. ‘How can you … you, of all people. You know me. How can you think that?’

‘I didn’t say I did.’ She knew that wasn’t any more of a denial than his own. ‘But you did know Clementine. Who was she to you?’ One last chance for him to tell her the truth.

‘Nobody!’ Hugh said. ‘I’d never met the woman before this bloody convention thing started up!’

‘Maybe that’s why Larch suspects you,’ she said. ‘If you told him the same lie as you’re telling me.’

Hugh’s head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. ‘What do you mean?’

Was the surprise in his voice because she knew he was lying, or because she’d called him on it? So many lies over the years that she’d let go. Every time he told her he loved her more than anything, then went home to his wife. When he proposed to her, but was already sleeping with her best friend.

So many lies. Lies he told her and lies she told herself to enable her to carry on doing what she wanted without the weight of her conscience dragging her down.

But now she needed the truth from him. Just this once.