Simon wanted to ask her which radio station she’d been listening to, and what programs she’d heard, but now wasn’t the moment.

She loved her husband. But she didn’t trust him. So she also hated him.

She killed him because she’d gotten nowhere trying to solve the mystery of his secret on her own. If she wanted police help, a murder was the way to get it . . .

No. Far-fetched.

“Did you have any contact with Damon between eight thirty this morning and when you found his body at ten thirty?” Sam asked.

“No. None. He went upstairs after breakfast. I switched the radio on . . . That was it.”

“Before you found his body this morning, when was the last time you’d been in his study?” asked Simon.

“Yesterday evening—I went in to put some books back on his shelves. He leaves them lying around all over the house.”

“And when you went in there yesterday, the room looked normal? Nothing there that shouldn’t have been, nothing out of place?”

Hannah shook her head. “Nothing. Just Damon’s study, the way it always looked until . . . today.”

“Hannah, can I clarify something?” Sam cut in. “Between eight thirty and ten thirty this morning, you didn’t go upstairs at all? Didn’t catch sight of Damon, didn’t get any text messages or emails from him?”

“No,” said Hannah. “Nothing. Damon writes in the mornings and resurfaces at lunchtime. I steer clear so as not to interrupt his chain of venom. That’s what he calls it.”

“But this morning you didn’t steer clear,” Simon pointed out. “You went up with a cup of tea for him at ten thirty, you say.”

“Yes.” Hannah’s mouth twitched. “Sometimes in moments of weakness, I’d do that: try and catch him in the act.” She said this as if it were perfectly normal.

“Catch him doing what?”

“How can I answer that when I don’t know why he pretended to love me? It wasn’t a carefully thought-out strategy; it was just something I did from time to time. If someone’s keeping something from you and you want to find out what it is, it’s worth walking in on them every now and again when they least expect it. Who knows what you might find?”

“And?” Sam asked.