‘Frankly, I’m surprised the police have the resources to bother so much about a couple of letters. But then,’ he clasped his hands together, the tips of his index fingers touching, ‘she’s one of your own, isn’t she? So I imagine you can find the money for that.’

‘We’re not here about the letters.’

Ian’s face grew hard. ‘I see. So what are you going to fit my wife up with now?’

‘Murder, actually.’ Nell got it, but his attitude was still annoying her. ‘What was your wife doing two nights ago, Mr Fowler?’

Ian glared at her before reeling off a description of that night that matched Joanne’s almost word for word. Working together, then, Nell thought.

‘Your wife said she often wakes at night.’

‘That often happens when you’ve had a bereavement, especially one whose subsequent police action denies the time to grieve.’

‘Do you wake when she does?’

‘No, not always,’ he replied. ‘I suppose I’ve got used to it.’

‘So if she left the house that night, you might not have noticed?’

‘I assume you mean “if she left the house to kill a man”? In which case, I think I would have noticed her returning covered in his blood, don’t you?’

‘We didn’t say the victim was a man, Mr Fowler. Nor did we mention blood.’

Ian waved his pencil dismissively. ‘Murder always involves blood. Unless you’re in an Agatha Christie novel where the butler uses poison, or whatnot. And I just reverted to default when I mentioned gender. But hey,’ he held his hands up, ‘arrest me for misogyny if you must.’

He was good, Nell had to give him that.

‘Do you know Connor O’Brian?’

Ian frowned. ‘No, why would I?’

‘He’s never bought a car from here?’

Ian stared at her. ‘I’d have to check my records.’

‘That would be very helpful, thank you.’

‘Seriously?’ His tone was scornful.

‘Seriously.’

‘For God’s sake. Fine. I’ll check my records. This is going to start to look like police harassment if you’re not careful, Sergeant.’

‘I’ll be sure to bear that in mind. Would you say you were a supportive husband, Mr Fowler?’

‘My wife spent years in jail for a crime she didn’t commit, and I fought every day to get her out so she could be allowed to grieve for her the death of our child. I’d say that was supportive, wouldn’t you?’

‘If something was bothering Joanne, you’d do what you could to help her, yes?’

‘Of course.’

Nell nodded. ‘Does your wife know anyone called Mary?’

Ian’s jaw tensed, a tiny move, but Nell clocked it.

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘A friend she met in prison maybe?’

‘My wife didn’t make friends in prison. They don’t take kindly to child killers in there.’