And they had heard it all.

26

Tara

The big detective, Detective Chief Inspector Stoner, sat on what was usually my sofa with a cup of tea and his legs apart, a smile on his face, affable and terrifying in equal measures. Buddy gave his calves a quick inquisitive sniff and DCI Stoner’s meaty features lit up with an expression of pure delight. Tea, dog, dead lover. Isn’t this nice?

The other one, the frosty-faced young redhead in glasses, Detective Inspector Ure, stood by the window with her arms folded across her chest, squinting at me with a combination of lifelong myopia and instant dislike. I sat at right angles to DCI Stoner, on what was usually Christian’s sofa, and my mouth was very dry.

We were all in the wrong places. When I spoke I hated the sound of my voice, the flutter of nerves, the giveaway tell-tale sign of fear.

‘I gave a statement. The night …’

The night the body was found.

The night I fled the scene.

The night you took my husband away.

The night it all came out.

DI Ure looked me up and down and I realised that it was considerably more than dislike. It was loathing at first sight. I had been spoilt by Sophie Sherman. I thought that all women were my sisters now and they would rally around in my hour of need. But not this one. The short-sighted copper looked at me as if I was a crack whore who had somehow conned her way into a nice house.

‘That first interview was what we call an initial brief account, Mrs Carver,’ DI Ure said briskly. ‘That’s not the end of the process.’ Her mean little mouth pursed with disgust. ‘Only the start.’

‘You’re very important, Mrs Carver,’ DCI Stoner, his patronising, pub bore matey-ness turned all the way up to ten. ‘You and your friend – Mrs Ginger Sallis – found the body of the deceased. You are both significant witnesses.’

DI Ure watched me through her specs. She saw me as a spoilt rich bitch who thought she could get away with a quick fling on a business trip. Fair comment, really.

I licked my lips. I was going to have to stop licking my lips.

‘Please don’t be apprehensive, Mrs Carver,’ DCI Stoner said, and I hated that he could see I was frightened. ‘This is just to tie up some loose ends. Nothing to worry about. But some new evidence has come to light.’

‘What new evidence?’

They ignored me. The police, I would learn, had the secret power of selective deafness. They did not say – we ask the questions. They didn’t have to. Events proceeded at their pace and nobody else’s. DCI Stoner smiled, and he did not stop smiling until Christian – leaning against the doorjamb, neither in nor out of the living room – asked a question.

‘Does my wife need a lawyer?’

DCI Stoner stared at him, pressing the pause button on his hideous friendliness.