“Actually, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Have you heard about Damon Blundy?” A name I haven’t mentioned in Melissa’s presence for a while . . .

She drops the teaspoon she’s holding. It lands with a bang on the white granite work surface. “What about him?”

“He’s dead. He lived on Elmhirst Road in Spilling. Near me.”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Really?” This strikes me as unlikely, yet I can’t see why she’d lie about it.

“Not the road name, but I knew he lived in Spilling. I read his column about how he had to leave London because there were too many ugly people in it. Of all the places he’d ever visited, the Culver Valley contained the most attractive women, so he was moving there.” Melissa spins around to face me. “And that’s why you moved there, isn’t it?” she asks with a tremor in her voice.

“So that I could meet attractive women? No.” I laugh to disguise my discomfort.

“What’s Damon Blundy got to do with your side mirror?” Melissa asks as she puts my mug of tea down on the corner of the table farthest away from me. I have to stand to reach it.

“He’s been murdered. Elmhirst Road, where he lived, is on my route to the kids’ school. It was full of police yesterday. They spotted my car, asked me how long I’d been driving without a side mirror. I told them it had only just been snapped off that morning.” Who’d have guessed it was possible to come up with so many variations on the same lie? “I thought that’d be it, but they got all serious on me, wanting to know if anyone could back up my story, asking who’d been in my car and how recently—”

“And you mentioned me? Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t want to mention anyone, but I panicked! I didn’t feel comfortable lying once I realized I’d brushed up against a murder investigation. Don’t . . .” I raise a hand to stop Melissa from stating the obvious. “I knew I’d lied already, about the mirror. That’s why I didn’t want to make it worse. I wish I’d told them the truth from the start.”

“Then why don’t you? You still could.”