‘I don’t remember. Where were they?’

‘They were in the bin.’

‘Maybe somebody found them and threw them away. I don’t remember leaving them behind.’

‘What have three broken cigarettes got to do with anything?’ Maureen asked, scornful now.

‘Probably nothing.’ Hawthorne smiled and got to his feet. ‘Thank you, Mr Yurdakul. You’ve been very helpful.’

‘I’ll show you out.’

We left the office and went back into the hallway. Maureen closed the door behind us as we came out. ‘Mr Yurdakul is very upset,’ she said in a low voice. She was almost admonishing Hawthorne, as if he had no right to come barging in with his questions. ‘You can’t possibly think he had anything to do with that woman’s death.’

‘He had the most to lose,’ Hawthorne remarked, pragmatically.

‘If he’d wanted to kill someone, he’d have killed Anthony.’ I was shocked to hear her say that, but she had already turned on me with fury in her eyes and there was no stopping her. ‘I warned him against your play. I said that it was too peculiar for a modern audience and that nobody would understand what you were trying to get at. Is it a comedy? Is it a thriller? What is it, exactly? But he had complete faith in you, and now you turn up with your detective friend and cast aspersions on a man who is absolutely blameless and wouldn’t dream of hurting anyone. Mr Yurdakul has been wonderful to work with. I’d do anything for him! And just so you know, I’ve never seen him lose his temper … not once. He’s a gentleman in every sense of the word.’

‘So where was he on Wednesday morning?’ Hawthorne asked, cutting her short.

She looked at him in disbelief. ‘He was nowhere near Palgrove Gardens. He had a meeting at Frost and Longhurst at eleven o’clock.’

‘Who are Frost and Longhurst?’

‘His accountants. That was Martin Longhurst you met just now.’

‘And where are they based?’

‘In Holborn.’

Hawthorne sighed. ‘Holborn is less than thirty minutes from Little Venice on the tube. That would have left him plenty of time to kill Harriet Throsby.’

Maureen stared at him with poison in her eyes. ‘You clearly haven’t listened to a word I’ve said …’ she sniffed.

‘You think she didn’t deserve it?’ He was deliberately provoking her.

‘Just so you know, I agree with every single word she said – about the play, anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t have couched it in quite those terms, but of course she didn’t deserve to die. Nobody does.’

‘Just out of interest, how did you know she lived in Palgrove Gardens.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘You just said that Ahmet was nowhere near that address.’

Maureen took a deep breath. I thought she might be about to scream. ‘The police told me where she lived,’ she explained, simply. ‘Before they came here, I knew almost nothing about Harriet Throsby. As far as I’m concerned, I never want to hear her name again.’ She opened the door, allowing the cold air to rush in. ‘I very much hope you won’t come back,’ she continued. ‘We’ve got nothing more to tell you and as far as I can see, you’re not helping at all.’