We both drew a breath. And that was when the absurdity of it hit me.

‘That’s not why you’re here,’ I said. ‘This has got nothing to do with cultural appropriation. You just don’t want me to write about you because you’re ashamed.’

‘I have nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘You threatened to kill Harriet! You stabbed a cake. There was that business with Sky. And you’ve had a row with your wife.’

Jordan visibly shrank. ‘That’s not true …’

‘I’m sorry. I have absolutely no interest in your private life. But everyone’s heard you shouting on the phone – and she didn’t come to the first night.’

‘I told you. She was working.’ But even as he spoke, he sounded half-hearted and I knew that I was right. ‘I don’t want you writing about Jayne.’

I was disappointed with myself. I’d liked Jordan Williams from the very start and I was grateful to him. It had been a real breakthrough when he’d agreed to take the part of Dr Farquhar and he’d thrown himself into it, supporting the play from the start. Only the week before we’d opened, he’d been on the radio, saying nice things about me. And here we were shouting at each other for no good reason at all.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘Right now I’m not even thinking about the book. I don’t even want to write it. All I care about is who killed Harriet Throsby.’ I took a deep breath. ‘And you might as well know that the police are convinced it was me. They kept me locked up for twenty-four hours and they interrogated me. I think, technically, that I’m out on bail. There! Now you know.’

‘But I was the one who threatened her!’

‘I know that. But it was my knife that ended up in her chest.’

He looked at me, puzzled. Then he remembered. ‘You had it in the green room!’ he said. ‘I saw you with it.’

‘You don’t remember what I did with it?’

‘I think you left it over at the side. Near the fridge. Yes! I’m sure I saw it there.’

‘Was it still there at the end of the evening?’

‘I can’t remember.’ He shook his head. ‘Someone could have taken it.’

‘That’s why we were at the theatre today, asking you all those questions. Hawthorne’s my friend. Well, he is sort of. He’s just trying to save me from being sent to jail.’ I felt empty, exhausted. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,’ I said. ‘That really wasn’t my intention.’

He smiled and at that moment I had the completely irrelevant thought that he would have been really good as Dr Who.

‘I may be able to help you,’ he said.

‘How?’

‘I may know who killed her.’

I stared at him.

‘Tirian.’ He went on hastily, before I could interrupt. ‘I’m talking out of turn – and whatever happens, you didn’t hear this from me – but you might as well know. Tirian was really worried about Harriet Throsby. I mean, worried sick! He thought she was going to ruin his career – his big break in that Hollywood movie.’