‘We’re asking all the guests the same three questions,’ James said. ‘Did you see anyone acting suspiciously around Rachel before she disappeared? Did you go down to the lake and jetty at any time during the reception and meal? And do you have any thoughts as to who might have committed the murder?’

‘My answer to all three questions is an emphatic no,’ he responded. ‘I’ve been racking my brain to recall when I last saw Rachel and I’m pretty sure it was on the terrace during the reception. She was moving around saying hi to people and posing for photographs.’

‘Did you take any pictures on your phone?’ Abbott asked him.

‘I didn’t see the point. There was an official photographer and Greg told me he’d send me copies of all the photos so that I could choose which ones I wanted to keep.’

‘Were you aware that Rachel had invited a man to the wedding?’ This from James.

‘You mean the Italian bloke with the beard?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘No, of course not. Like everyone else, I was surprised when her pal let it be known downstairs. Have you found him yet or has he done a runner?’

‘We believe he left the hotel,’ James said, ‘but I’m sure we’ll be talking to him soon enough. Did you have any contact with him during the wedding?’

‘None at all, although I think I saw him a couple of times. First, while we were waiting for the ceremony itself to start, and then again on the terrace. But he was by himself both times. I just assumed he was a family member or friend on Libby’s side.’

James studied the man’s face as he spoke. He obviously wasn’t nervous, or if he was, he was doing well to hide it.

Both detectives asked a few more general questions about his personal circumstances and his relationship with Greg Murphy.

‘We’ve been friends for years,’ he answered. ‘I knew his father too, before he died not long ago. Like Greg, he was a regular at the golf club I own.’

He didn’t refer to Sean so James took it to mean that he wasn’t aware that Abbott was engaged to one of his club members.

James finally got around to asking him how well he knew Belinda Travers.

At the mention of her name the blood seemed to retreat from his face.

‘What’s she got to do with anything?’ he snapped.

‘I’m sure you’re well aware of what I’m alluding to, Mr Slade,’ James said. ‘Miss Travers has made an accusation against you. She says you approached her in the garden and kissed her without her consent. You then threatened to slap her when she pushed you away and told you to leave her alone. And the reason it’s significant is that this allegedly occurred not long before Rachel was killed only a matter of yards away on the jetty.’

Slade shook his head, his mouth agape, fury in his eyes.

‘I don’t fucking believe this. That bitch is trying to stitch me up. And it sounds to me like you believe her.’