‘Omar Haddad?’ Christian said.

Shut up shut up shut up!

‘He used to go out with a friend of ours. Years ago.’ He looked at me and I nodded, miming my memory being jogged. ‘Ginger …’ And then he realised that – of course – Detectives Stoner and Ure had already met Ginger. ‘But what’s Omar Haddad got to do with it?’ he asked.

DCI Stoner totally ignored him, drained his tea and smacked his lips. He slapped his big hands on his thighs, as if preparing to take his leave.

‘One final thing,’ he said. ‘We always say – find out how a murder victim lived and you will find out how he died. James Caine – we know – was sexually promiscuous, and it is quite possible that he was not killed because he had a nice watch but because of the way he lived.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Christian said, but I was afraid I did.

‘James Caine had the habit of giving his women a second phone,’ DCI Stoner said.

I felt Christian flinch, and I felt his flesh crawl, or perhaps it was my own flesh crawling.

His women.

DCI Stoner was shaking his head as if this was just an annoying administrative detail that needed clearing up. ‘And I was wondering if James Caine ever gave you a second phone, Mrs Carver.’

I stared at him blankly.

‘I think I am correct in saying there was no mention of a second phone in your statement.’

He looked over at DI Ure.

‘There was no mention of a second phone in Mrs Carver’s statement,’ she confirmed.

‘Now think very carefully,’ Stoner said, as if it may have slipped my mind. ‘Did James Caine ever give you a phone?’

I remembered the day James Caine came to my office. I remembered the tickets he placed on my desk for Bryan Ferry at the Royal Albert Hall – how he got the wrong “Angel Eyes”, how he thought the company was named after the Roxy Music song and not the Frank Sinatra classic, and I remembered that brand-new phone, still in the box but with the cellophane wrapper torn off, as if it had been opened, charged up and was ready to go.

‘It’s in case you ever need a friend,’ Caine had said. ‘Or something more.’

And I remembered telling him that I already had a friend, and I already had a phone, and I already had a fucking life. And I remembered that he took the concert tickets and left the phone.

And I remembered where I had put it.

‘Mrs Carver?’ Stoner said. ‘I’m asking you again – did James Caine give you a phone?’

I looked him in the eye. ‘No,’ I said.

CHRISTIAN

We were the happy family waiting at the school gates, the stay-at-home dad, the beautiful, high-achieving mum and the adorable dog. Waiting for their beautiful boy to appear at going-home time. But that afternoon there were looks, and muttered asides, because the gossip was already on the grapevine and you were certainly not innocent until proven guilty at the school gates.