A car she didn’t recognise pulled into the forecourt and a man she wasn’t familiar with got out. She wrapped her coat around her and walked towards him, the wind whipping her hair into an unruly mess.

‘DCC Sneddon?’ she called out.

‘Yes, how did you know?’ He was tall with sandy blond hair and a stern face, but she liked to imagine he didn’t look unreasonable.

‘You just look like PSD.’

‘I’ll pretend that’s a compliment.’ He held his hand out and she took it; he had a firm shake, confident, that of someone in a position of authority.

‘I’m DS Imogen Grey. The DCI has asked me to take you through to see her.’

‘Do you know the accused?’ he said sombrely.

‘I do. He’s my partner.’

‘I’m guessing you believe him.’

‘Correct.’

‘OK, let’s get this show on the road,’ he said in an apologetic voice.

This at least gave her hope that he wasn’t just out to nail someone. She hated her job sometimes.

Chapter Ten

Being on this side of the interview table was no fun. Adrian waited patiently for DCC Trevor Sneddon to start asking questions. They had already got the formalities out of the way: date, time, name, rank. Adrian could feel the beginnings of a migraine, or maybe he just really wanted a drink.

‘Could you tell me about the first meeting with Caitlin Watts?’ DCC Sneddon began.

‘She was brought in for breaking into a chapel. Her grandfather was a reverend, though, and so no charges were brought and we let her go,’ Adrian said.

‘Did she steal anything?’ Sneddon asked.

‘Apparently not.’

‘How did she seem at that time?’

‘I don’t know. Normal. She was quite friendly,’ Adrian said. Did that make him look bad?

‘And the next time you saw her?’

‘Yesterday morning. She said hello to us near the scene of the Norris murder. We went to speak to one of his colleagues, who turned out to be her lecturer. Psychology, um … her name was Gillian Mitchell. Miss Watts walked past and said hello.’

‘And you hadn’t arranged to meet Caitlin Watts there?’

‘Of course not. It was a murder that we were called out to. How would I know beforehand that it was going to happen?’ he said, trying not to get annoyed at the questions. He knew they had to ask them.

‘And then the next time?’

‘Yesterday again. She came in late afternoon and told us that she thought Hugh Norris was having an affair with a student. She also told us that one of his students committed suicide exactly three months ago. She brought in an article about the suicide and I put it on the desk.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘She told me she couldn’t get home and that she was a bit upset by the murder, so I offered to give her a lift.’

‘You offered? Why?’

‘Actually no, I offered to get someone else to drop her home, but she asked if I could do it. She said she was nervous because of the violent nature of the murder.’