‘So he did it?’ Christian said, still lurking in the doorway.

DCI Stoner did not look at him, or acknowledge that he had even heard. ‘How much is a watch like that worth?’ he mused. ‘A Rolex Submariner 6536?’

‘More than I earn in a year,’ DI Ure said.

DCI Stoner chuckled good-naturedly. ‘Above my pay grade too!’ Finally he looked at Christian, his smile fading. ‘Did our suspect – his name is Alfred Oakley – kill James Caine? Is that what you’re asking me, sir?’

Christian nodded.

‘That’s for the court to decide,’ DCI Stoner said primly. ‘A man is innocent until proven guilty in this country. But let’s see – we’ve got James Caine’s watch on Alfred Oakley’s wrist. And we’ve got Oakley’s prints all over the room service trolley. And we’ve got James Caine’s DNA all over Oakley. But here’s the thing – Oakley claims he never entered the hotel room. He claims that this watch – this ridiculously expensive watch – was carelessly left on a room service trolley and that’s where he found it.’

‘But that’s … insane,’ I said. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘The thing is – hotel guests do accidentally leave all sorts of things on room service trolleys. Remote controls for the TV, their wallets, their passports. Even – please forgive my vulgarity, Mrs Carver – vibrators.’

A short mirthless laugh from DI Ure.

‘And then – the silly things – they shove the trolley out in the corridor for collection,’ DCI Stoner went on. ‘And later in the evening they wonder whatever happened to the remote control, or their wallet, or their watch.’

‘Or their vibrator,’ DI Ure said to herself.

A silence settled over us and then DCI Stoner shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Who knows what really happened between James Caine and Alfred Oakley?’ he said. ‘On the face of it, a jury might decide it looks like a robbery that went too far. It might be just about believable to a jury that a man could accidentally leave his expensive watch on a room service trolley, but we are also asked to believe that the same man ended up murdered – and it had nothing to do with the homeless chap who took his watch. Everything says Alfred Oakley did it,’ DCI Stoner said.

He paused dramatically, enjoying his power.

‘Apart from one thing,’ he said.

DCI Stoner sipped his tea, smiled, stared down at Buddy sleeping at my feet. Taking his time. He looked up from the dog, staring over at Christian and then at me.

‘My gut,’ he said. ‘My gut tells me this former British soldier did not murder James Caine.’

He thinks we did it, I thought, my heart pounding.

He thinks Christian and I did it together.

Or he thinks we hired this poor bastard they’ve got locked up.

DI Ure laughed.

‘Your famous gut,’ she said, truly amused.

‘So if you don’t think he did it,’ Christian said, ‘who did?’

Shut up, I thought. Shut up shut up shut up.