“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a couple of other questions, unrelated to alibis,” said Charlie.

“That’s why I’m here. I’m happy to help if I can. Ask away.”

“Do you own a car?”

“A car?”

“Yes.” Charlie mimed steering. “Four wheels, gearstick, dashboard . . .”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Melissa asked.

“I honestly don’t know. Look, I told you on the phone, I’m not a detective—I’m a flunky, working her way through someone else’s list of questions.”

Fortunata chose this moment to appear with a curly-paged notepad and a pencil. “You want something?” she demanded loudly.

Melissa shrank back.

“Another latte for Charlie?”

“Go on, then. Cheers.”

“And for Charlie friend?”

“Diet Coke, please,” said Melissa.

Once they were alone again, she said, “Yes. I have a car. What a strange question.”

“Do you share it with Lee, or is it just yours?”

“We have a car each. Lee has a Vauxhall Insignia, and I’ve got a Mazda RX-8.”

“What kind of driver are you?” Charlie asked her. “Would you happily drive on a highway on your own at night? Do you only do short, local trips unless Lee’s with you?”

“No.” Melissa looked as if she suspected some sort of practical joke was in progress, and she was its victim. “I drive alone on highways at night all the time. When my mum and dad got divorced, he moved to Truro. I often drive there to visit him, on my own, often getting back at two or three in the morning. I drive in all weathers, through the center of London in rush hour if I need to. I’d drive in light snow too if Lee would let me—he’s the more cautious driver of the two of us, by far. Is that enough information for you?”

“I think so,” said Charlie.

“You really don’t know why you’ve been told to ask me that?”

“Not a clue. What’s in the orange bag under the table?”

Melissa looked away quickly, as if by avoiding Charlie’s eye, she could avoid answering.

“Melissa? You brought something with you. You must have wanted to show it to me.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think it’s got anything to do with Damon Blundy’s murder.”

“But at first you thought it might have? Please show it to me. If there’s even a tiny chance it could shed some light, I need to see it.”

Melissa’s eyes had filled with tears. “Well, you know where it is if you want to look at it,” she said.

Charlie stood up, walked around the side of the table and picked up the bag—all so that Melissa would be able to say to herself, I didn’t give it to her—she took it. Crazy.