“I can see them thinking you needed a bit of sense shaking into you, but I don’t believe they honestly think you’re capable of murder.”

“I am capable of murder,” I tell him. “I just haven’t committed it yet, that’s all.”

THE POLICE HAVE SENT a woman to take my statement: Sergeant Charlotte Zailer. Tall, skinny, dark hair, bright red lipstick. Sharp dark eyes that make me wonder what she’s thinking about me, even before I’ve said anything. She looks as if she’s thinking plenty.

Her breasts are large for a skinny woman. It was the first thing I noticed about her when she walked into the holding cell Adam and I were placed in when we arrived. It’s probably not called a holding cell. The man who escorted us in here called it a meeting room. Still, it’s not a room I’d wish to spend any time in.

I don’t normally pay much attention to other women’s breasts, but Sergeant Zailer’s are hard to miss. Given what I’m about to reveal, the sight of them, even covered up, makes me feel paranoid. I am certain Adam is thinking the same thing. Perhaps we’ll laugh about it together later.

“Mr. Clements, perhaps you could encourage your wife to tell me what she came here to tell me?” says Sergeant Zailer. “I can’t wait forever.”

“Nicki . . .” Adam murmurs.

“I don’t need encouragement.” I needed to prepare myself, that’s all. And now I have. “Now that Adam knows the truth, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. You’ll disapprove of me, but I don’t mind that. I’m used to being disapproved of.”

“I already disapprove of you,” Sergeant Zailer says as if it’s a stroke of good luck. “You lied to two of my colleagues, didn’t you? You said your car was missing a side mirror on the morning that Damon Blundy was murdered. We know that’s not true. We’ve got CCTV of your car with both mirrors clearly still attached.”

“Yes, I thought of that several days too late. I know it’s pathetic, but the mirror thing was the best I could come up with. God knows how I could make such a stupid mistake. I could have told literally any other lie and it would have been more convincing: I’d left my phone at home; I remembered I’d left the stove on—anything! Once I realized I’d screwed up, I hoped the CCTV might be so grainy that my mirrors wouldn’t stand out, but . . .” I shrug.

“Well, I’m sorry your lie didn’t work.” Sergeant Zailer smiles. She looks and sounds as if she might actually mean it. Unless it’s a tactic. It must be a tactic. “Is that why you called and asked to come in? You realized your story’d fall flat, so you decided to tell the truth?”

“No. I’ve just told you, I was pinning all my hopes on excessive graininess of CCTV film.” I smile back at her. “I decided to tell the truth because my mother threatened me.”