“What does he do for work?” Gibbs asked.

“He’s a speech writer. For the Home Office.”

And for his wife: a speech called “Why You Should Convict My Husband’s Sister of Murder.”

“And you? What’s your job?”

“I work from home,” said Melissa. “I do the admin for a mail-order company that sells herbal remedies and health supplements. I’m also doing a part-time law degree. Why do you want to know all this?”

“I just do,” said Gibbs. It came out more aggressively than he’d intended it to.

“Look, I sincerely hope Nicki didn’t kill Damon Blundy,” Melissa said, no doubt sensing his antipathy toward her. “I’m not saying she did it, but it’d be irresponsible of me not to come to you with my concerns, especially knowing that she’s a . . . well, she’s basically a pathological liar!”

Gibbs said nothing. He sensed that Melissa hadn’t finished.

“She doesn’t only lie to get herself out of trouble, like most people. She lies for fun. It’s her hobby. She commits crimes for fun too. Once, she stole a pair of shoes, kids’ shoes, at a soft-play center. They belonged to a toddler who’d been mean to Ethan. Nicki stole his shoes, as revenge, and threw them in the trash on the way home. Once, she contacted the local paper—this was while she still lived in London—and bad-mouthed Sophie and Ethan’s primary school. When a critical article appeared, instead of telling the head, ‘Yes, I was unhappy with the school so I dished the dirt to a newspaper,’ she pretended . . .” Melissa stopped. She looked embarrassed. “It’s so flagrantly implausible it’s almost funny. She denied flat out that she’d gone to the press. She told the head she’d been discussing it with a friend, privately and responsibly, and the deputy editor of the local paper had happened to be standing behind them at the time—in the supermarket, she said—and he’d then gone off and used it as a story without her permission or knowledge, the bastard.” Melissa shook her head. “I heard her on the phone to the head. She actually called the guy a bastard, then burst out laughing as soon as she’d put the phone down. ‘Did that sound OK, in a so-implausible-it-must-be-true kind of way?’ she asked me.”

And I bet you laughed along with her, didn’t you? I bet you were more fun before you hooked up with Lee.

“There are probably stories like that about most people,” said Gibbs.

“Not me,” said Melissa. “I’ve never stolen anything. I don’t lie habitually like Nicki does. I’m sure you don’t either.”

Gibbs’s confidence in her judgment shrank to less than zero. “Tell me about Tuesday,” he said. “Nicki asked you to lie to the police?”