‘Well, I’m not sure what I’ve done with it.’ I forced a smile to my lips, fighting the strange sensation that I was acting a part, that nothing I said or did was real any more. I had this extraordinary urge to confess, to say ‘I killed her!’ even though I hadn’t.

‘Perhaps we can help you,’ Cara said. She nodded at Mills.

‘We retrieved an ornamental dagger from the home of the deceased,’ Mills intoned, effortlessly slipping into the stilted language so loved by police officers. ‘And we can confirm it has a medallion with a silver design on the grip. That said medallion has come loose.’

‘Well, the daggers were cheap,’ I exclaimed. ‘They were all faulty!’

Cara shook her head. ‘We’ve already spoken to the other recipients,’ she told me. ‘Ewan Lloyd, the director. Sky Palmer, Jordan Williams and Tirian Kirke in the cast. They all have their daggers and we’ve been able to examine them. None of them have any loose parts. We’ve also contacted Ahmet Yurdakul, who assures us that there were only the five daggers given out at the London premiere.’

‘The dagger that killed Harriet Throsby is your dagger,’ Mills said.

‘No. That’s not possible.’

‘Then where is it?’

‘I just told you. I was very tired last night. It was late. I must have forgotten it and left it behind at the theatre.’

‘That’s not what you said a moment ago.’ Cara Grunshaw was merciless. ‘You told us it was upstairs.’

‘I thought it was.’

‘You lied to us.’

‘That’s ridiculous. Get out of my flat. I’m not talking to you without a lawyer.’

‘It’s a bit late for that, Anthony.’ Cara was enjoying herself. It was always possible that she really believed I had killed Harriet Throsby, but that didn’t matter. The identity of the killer was almost irrelevant. This was revenge for what I had done to her, feeding her the false story that had led to her humiliation.

She left the honours to Mills.

‘Anthony Horowitz,’ he said, ‘I am now arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Harriet Throsby at 27 Palgrove Gardens, W9. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if …’

You must know the words. I’ve written them enough times in enough books and police dramas. But I zoned out as he pronounced the formal police caution. I saw his lips moving but I didn’t hear anything. I was being arrested! No! That was insane.

And what was it, echoing in my brain, ricocheting around my skull, the one thing that could save me, the one person I needed to see right now?

Hawthorne.

6

One Phone Call

After he had arrested me, Mills went out to the car, leaving me alone with his boss. I was completely dazed. Perhaps I was even in shock. In all my time on the planet all I’d ever managed was a speeding ticket and now I was being arrested for murder? I couldn’t get my head around it. I asked her if I could make a phone call.