He resisted the urge to kick the leg of the table. No matter how many successes he notched up, he always feared that the current case would be his first failure. He suspected he always would. Charlie’s reassuring him that he always got there in the end wasn’t the consolation she imagined it to be; it only piled on more pressure.

“Can we move on from my and Damon’s imaginary sex life to his murder, which is more important?” Paula asked. “Do you think you’re going to find his killer?”

“I know I will.”

“Oh good. Because . . . don’t let this go to your head, but I’ve heard that you’re an excellent detective. The best that Hicksville has to offer.”

Heard where?

“You want Damon’s murderer caught, then?” Simon asked.

Paula flashed him a smooth smile. “I’d want any murderer caught.”

“You mentioned having another appointment in Spilling—tomorrow?”

“Yes. This will be a good test of your powers of detection. My appointment tomorrow is the chronological opposite of my meeting with you today. No, wait. It’s the horological opposite. If you’re as good as I’ve heard, you’ll work out what that means before I leave the room.”

Simon ignored her challenge. “Your alibi’s impressively solid,” he said. “Your friends confirm that you and your husband were with them last Monday morning. I knew they would.”

“So did I. Because it’s the truth.” Paula looked up at the clock on the wall. “Horological,” she repeated. “Relating to clocks. Any ideas yet? You’re not very fast, for a super detective. Maybe you’re not so super after all.”

“I’m good enough,” said Simon.

“Good is different from excellent, though, isn’t it? You must know the saying ‘All it takes for evil to prosper is for good men to do nothing.’ Damon used to say, ‘If you take that at face value, it’s true, but ninety-nine percent of people who wheel out that line aren’t advocating good men doing good deeds. They’re advocating good men doing the kind of evil acts that evil men do—which turns them into equally evil men.’”

“When did Damon say that?”

“Oh, I don’t remember,” Paula said airily.

She’s toying with you . . .

“Stop playing games,” Simon snapped, standing up so that he didn’t have to have her face in front of him. He walked over to the corner of the room, leaned against the wall. “Damon Blundy’s dead, and your husband’s miles away. Tell me the truth. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? This meeting was your idea, not mine.”

Paula narrowed her eyes. “There are things I could tell you . . . They might even help you. Can you give me a cast-iron promise that if I share this sensitive information with you, Hannah Blundy will never find out?”

“About your affair with Damon, you mean?”