“She’s not most people’s idea of attractive, and as she pointed out herself, Blundy was forever harping on about how he loved gorgeous women and hated plain ones, but . . . I don’t know.” Sam shook his head. “To be honest, she sounded . . . well, a bit mad. She had no evidence—no sign that he’d ever had an affair, nothing she’d seen or overheard to back up her belief. And Blundy was a loving, devoted husband to her for the whole of their marriage. Could he really have faked it for so long? Why would he?”

“Don’t ask me,” said Proust. “Most married men have the opposite problem: they love their wives but find it hard not to behave as if they can’t stand them. Sergeant, please don’t look at me with the eyes of a rabbit dying of myxomatosis while Mr. Garfunkel sings ‘Bright Eyes’ in the background! It’s not sexism, it’s the truth! Gibbs and Sellers know what I mean.”

“Since he was so keen on shocking people, Blundy could easily have written a column saying he could never love an ugly woman just to be provocative,” Sam said, red in the face from the rabbit comparison.

“Or he could have been using his love life as yet another rebellion opportunity, in addition to his column in the Herald,” said Gibbs. “He was famous, well-off—he could have had anyone. Well, not anyone, but—”

“Anyone who didn’t mind cruelty,” muttered Sam.

“Maybe he thought it’d shock people if he had an unattractive wife,” Gibbs said. “If you want to shock and keep shocking, you can’t be predictable. So if you’ve written about your fondness for fit women—”

“So then Hannah’s right,” said Sellers. “He didn’t love her. He married her for her freak-show value.”

“Hannah’s not a freak,” Sam said emphatically. “I could be wrong, but I don’t find it plausible that anyone, however much they enjoyed shocking or rebelling, would deliberately choose a partner they weren’t attracted to just to create a certain reaction. Being plain, like Hannah, or even downright ugly, doesn’t mean no one would fall in love with you at first sight.”

“Are you sure about that, Sergeant? I’m not. I think Hannah Blundy might have a point.”

“Sir, it’s not as if people always agree about these things. Maybe Damon Blundy thought Hannah was beautiful.”

“You’ve seen her and I haven’t,” said Proust. “Could any man think she was beautiful? Is it within the bounds of possibility?”

Sam looked confused. “It has to be,” he said eventually. “These things are so subjective. Anyone could look beautiful to at least one person. Couldn’t they?”

“No, Sergeant. Think of Superintendent Barrow. His head looks like a goiter, disfiguring a neck from an unusually elevated position.”