Nell hadn’t slept well. Bremer’s mention of her attack had given her subconscious free rein, and a morning call from him telling her to bring Joanne in for writing a few dodgy letters had done nothing to improve her mood. By the time they reached the interview room, her scars were itching, her head was pounding and as the room had no windows or air conditioning, she was sweating before she’d even finished the caution.

Joanne sat with her hands clasped between her legs, the shock of being brought to the station still evident.

‘I just don’t understand why I’m here. I told your DCI I didn’t write any letters.’

‘Where were you the night before last, Ms Fowler?’

‘I was with my husband all night. Why?’

‘And he’ll confirm this?’

‘Of course!’

‘And what did you have for dinner?’ Nell asked.

‘Dinner? I can’t remember. Probably pasta. It’s all I can really cook.’ She gave Paul a Princess Diana flutter of the lashes, which he returned with a smile. Nell looked at him in disgust. Jesus, men were so gullible, even six-foot, built-like-a-brick-shithouse cop ones.

‘So you had this pasta, the one thing you can cook, and then went to bed after watching two television programmes?’

Joanne nodded.

‘Who fell asleep first?’

‘I don’t know. Me, I think.’

‘And did you wake before morning?’

‘I always wake during the night. I go downstairs and have a drink of water, then go back to bed. It’s sort of a routine.’

‘Does your husband notice when you wake and go downstairs?’

‘No, never. He sleeps like the dead.’ She froze, but whether that was due to the poor turn of phrase or because she’d given the game away, Nell couldn’t tell.

‘I didn’t creep out and murder anyone, if that’s what you’re getting at.’ She was irritated now and that was good; irritated people weren’t in control; irritated people made mistakes.

‘Did you know a Mr O’Brian?’

‘No.’

‘You didn’t come across him when you left a note for Kelly-Anne?’

Joanne looked confused. ‘What note? I didn’t write a note.’ She looked at Paul. ‘And I didn’t write any letters.’

‘The note said,’ Nell went on, causing Joanne to look back across at her, ‘that Ms Graham was going to say Kelly-Anne killed her baby and she wasn’t to believe it. Its tone,’ she continued, despite Joanne opening her mouth to speak, ‘was identical to the tone of the letters Ms Graham received from you.’

Joanne sighed again and leaned back in her chair. ‘I’ve said it enough times now – I didn’t write those letters.’

‘But you know there are letters, plural? When DCI Bremer spoke with you we only had knowledge of one.’

‘I know because you just told me.’

‘Who is Mary?’

Joanne stared at her. ‘What?’