‘As I say, that’s for a jury to decide, sir.’

Christian smiled. It was sir now.

‘The evidence against Alfred Oakley is considerable,’ DCI Stoner said. ‘But I imagine his defence will make something of his right arm.’

I licked my lips again, my mouth feeling like it was made out of cotton.

‘What about his right arm?’ Christian said.

‘It’s not there,’ DCI Stoner said. ‘Alfred Oakley has a prosthetic arm. He lost his right arm, below the shoulder joint, to an IED in Helmand.’

I shook my head. ‘IUD?’

DI Ure looked disgusted. ‘Not IUD. An IED. An improvised explosive device. A bomb.’

DCI Stoner smiled appreciatively. ‘IUD! That’s very good, Mrs Carver!’ And then all serious. ‘When Alfred Oakley was serving in the armed forces, he was hit by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. The bomb killed the rest of his patrol and took off Oakley’s right arm just below the shoulder joint.’ With his left hand, DCI Stoner made a chopping motion at the top of his right arm. ‘There,’ he said softly.

‘Must have been his lucky day,’ DI Ure said. ‘Or his unlucky day.’

‘James Caine was killed with some force,’ DCI Stoner said, thinking aloud now. ‘The forensic post-mortem will obviously give us more detail, but it’s clear his head was caved in with some kind of sharp instrument, and that he was struck multiple times. When you are right-handed – as Alfred Oakley was before his injury – how do you do that with one good left arm?’

I was going to be sick.

‘Excuse me,’ I said, walking quickly from the room.

On my knees in the bathroom, the water running so they could not hear me retching, I heard their voices in the living room, Stoner making small talk about Christian’s record collection, sounding interested. How do you do that? Talk about someone’s brains being smashed in one minute and the timeless glory of vinyl the next? I heaved and heaved until it hurt but nothing came out, just a bitter trickle of yellow bile. The sweat was slick on my face. I dabbed cold water on my forehead, shivered as though someone had stepped on my grave, and went back and joined them.

‘You all right?’ Christian said.

I ignored him. I sat on the sofa, all business.

‘So I don’t see how Alfred Oakley could have beat him to death with that arm,’ DCI Stoner said, looking at me.

‘Maybe he was desperate,’ DI Ure said.

Stoner smiled pleasantly. ‘Not my concern,’ he said. ‘Did you ever come across a man by the name of …’

He looked across at DI Ure who had her notebook in her hands as she stared at me.

‘Omar Haddad,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Gillian,’ DCI Stoner said. ‘Omar Haddad – ring any bells?’

Keep Spike out of it, Ginger had said, and that was all she had said, I recalled, fighting off my hurt feelings. I suppose in the end all we care about is protecting our own family. No friendship in the world can be more important than your family. I made a show of thinking about the name and then I shook my head.