Paula’s smile remained static.

“You offered me a deal when you came to the police station: if I’d agree not to tell Hannah Blundy, you’d tell me everything. I’m ready to take you up on that deal.”

The frozen smile turned into a broad grin. “Really? A wise decision. All right, then, scratch what I just said. You’re right. I was lying.”

It seemed too easy. “You admit to the affair with Blundy?” Simon asked.

“Yes.”

“And you trust me to keep my side of the bargain and not tell Hannah—just like that?”

“Yes. You won’t tell her. You wouldn’t want to destroy her, and from what you’ve told me, it’s clear Damon’s and my affair had nothing to do with his murder.”

Simon gulped down the rest of his tea. Drips from the bottom of his cup fell onto his shirt and tie, which was partly why he was keen to be finished drinking from it. Every time he splashed himself with tea, he noticed Paula making an effort not to laugh. “You had Nicki followed because you thought she was in love with Damon,” he started again. “You knew she was because you were. Her comments on his columns were exactly what you’d have written. Uncannily identical. You spotted that it wasn’t just any old defense Nicki was providing but a defense motivated by love.”

“Yes,” said Paula. “Correct. I trusted Damon one hundred percent not to cheat on me, but . . . sometimes reading Nicki’s comments was like reading the contents of my own heart. It was spooky. So, yes, a teensy bit of doubt crept in. Plus in December last year, she moved to Spilling—that gave me a bit of a jump. I knew because she changed her location on her Herald comments profile. And, as I say, I’ve got plenty of money, so there was no reason not to put my mind at rest by having someone tail her for a while. It reassured me enormously: it became clear that Nicki and Damon never went anywhere near one another. I came to the conclusion she was just an obsessive fan. And then she stopped commenting—”

“But you kept up the surveillance.”

“Yes.” Another bright, brittle smile from Paula.

She doesn’t mind feeling embarrassed as long as she doesn’t look it. Doesn’t mind being eaten up by grief as long as the world can’t see it.