“Now and forever,” Proust amended. “If Riddiough didn’t murder Blundy, I don’t need to hear about their sex life. Nor do I care why Reuben Tasker pretended to be Blundy. I only care that he killed him and that Sergeant Zailer’s on her way to arrest him.”

“Do we know for sure that he did?” Sellers asked. “In Nicki Clements’s reply to the ‘Confidant’ ad, where she thinks she’s replying to King Edward, she says Hannah Blundy might have murdered Damon.”

“That’s easily explained,” said Simon. “Hannah’s a psychotherapist, and Nicki was her patient until February this year, when she broke up with the man she believed was Damon Blundy. She called herself Melissa Redgate, but it wasn’t Melissa. Melissa lives in London—why would she go and see a therapist in the Culver Valley? Nicki, on the other hand, was too curious to stay away from the woman she thought of as her rival. Again, as with Reuben Tasker and Damon Blundy, it’s the attraction-to-adversary syndrome. You’re drawn to your opposite number—the person who might, in various ways, represent your doom.”

“In your case, can that be me, Waterhouse?”

“Imagine the power kick: Nicki gets to tell Blundy’s wife all about the affair, every detail—mentioning no names, of course—and Hannah has to listen and make understanding noises and try to help Nicki. It’s the perfect revenge, from Nicki’s point of view, on the wife who’s got Damon in her bed every night.”

“Though in fact the last laugh’s Hannah’s, since King Edward turned out not to be Damon,” said Gibbs.

“I’ve known, or at least suspected, that Nicki was Hannah’s patient for quite a while,” Simon said. “When you and I interviewed Hannah, Sam, she mentioned a former patient who was paranoid about letting anyone drive her anywhere—remember? Train and taxi drivers, pilots of planes. This patient was neurotic and imagined these strangers would drive her to some terrible destination. I started to wonder if it could be Nicki Clements the first time she mentioned the auction.”

Gibbs and Sam exchanged a puzzled look. “Auction?” Sellers asked.

“The one Nicki and Melissa went to in Grantham—in Nicki’s car, complete with side mirror,” said Simon. “But why were they in Nicki’s car at all? Melissa has a car too. I asked Charlie to find out if she had any driving hang-ups. A lot of people do, especially women—won’t drive on highways or without their husbands, that kind of thing. But no, Melissa’s used to driving in all conditions—so why didn’t she and Nicki go to the auction in her car instead of Nicki’s?”

Proust covered his eyes with his hands and groaned.