“Oh, he couldn’t possibly have suspected what I was going to do,” says Jane. An anguished expression contorts her face. “Until . . . well, he screamed when he saw . . . But no one came. I thought someone might come, but his wife must have been in the basement, which was two floors down. I heard a radio on my way out of the house, quite loud. No one tried to stop me, you see. And, I mean, Damon liked me, before I started in earnest. I liked him. He was nice. We had a nice chat about Reuben’s new book and his research. Damon seemed pleased to be helping—quite sincere, I thought. He zipped up my suit—my protective suit.”

Suit. The word makes me think back to the “Confidant” email. “What about his computer password?” I say. “Why would he give you that?”

“I threatened to stab him to death if he didn’t,” says Jane, her brow creased in anxiety. She sounds as if she’s confessing to accidentally having put some whites in with a coloreds wash and ruined a favorite shirt. “Once he was taped to his chair securely, I could do whatever I wanted to him. He shouted out, but no one heard. Then I knocked him out with the knife sharpener, painted the words Reuben had told me—”

“Wrong order,” Tasker snaps. Jane shrinks back as if he’s physically struck her. He turns to me. “I had to give her a numbered list of instructions, right down to deleting all her emails-as-me from Blundy’s inbox, all his in response from his ‘Sent’ box and both from his ‘Deleted.’” To Jane he says, “After you knocked him out, you sharpened the knife and then taped it over his mouth.” He sniggers. “That was kind of the crucial part. I’m surprised you’d choose to forget that bit.”

I want to throw up.

“Actually, I’m not surprised,” Tasker contradicts himself. “It’s typical of you, darling wifey.”

Jane says and does nothing. Just carries on crying.

“Why are you so hard on her?” I ask.

“When she’s good enough to kill a man to make me happy, you mean? I agree.” Tasker walks over to the window and pulls open the curtains. Bright sunlight outside. Unbearable: people free and light out there, going about their business. “I really thought this one might do the trick, but it made no difference. You know what they say: once the rot’s set in.”

“What did Jane do that you couldn’t forgive?”

He’s coming toward me. Too fast. He grabs the scissors and holds them out like a knife to keep me away, as if I’m moving in on him. “How do you know about that? She didn’t do anything!” I’ve made him angry.

“Gavin told me. Remember? In the email where he said he’d forgive me anything.” I force a smile. “I hope that’s true.”