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‘Elaine? It’s Susan …’

‘Susan? Oh my God! Where are you? Are you OK?’

‘I’m at home …’

‘I can’t believe what’s happening. I can’t believe any of it. Eliot’s dead! And the family … they’re all blaming you.’

‘They’re horrible, Elaine. All of them. When they’re not at each other’s throats, they’ll bring down anyone who gets in their way.’

‘But it’s not just them. The police were here. They were asking me questions about you.’

‘What questions?’

‘They wanted to know about you and Eliot. They know all about the party, of course. But they’re also saying that the two of you had an argument at that club of his. Boon’s. They asked me about the dinner you had here.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘I didn’t want to tell them anything, but of course I couldn’t deny that we were all here together. I said you and Eliot were getting on fine, that you were helping him with his book and couldn’t have been more supportive.’

‘Thanks for that. You heard Eliot fire me at the party?’

‘He was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying. But they think that may be the reason why …’

‘I killed him?’

‘It’s ridiculous, Susan. I told them that. I’ve never heard anything so stupid.’

‘I told them – I wasn’t even driving that night. Did you see Detective Inspector Blakeney?’

‘There were two of them. He had a nasty, smirking girl with him.’

‘DC Wardlaw.’

‘I’d watch out for her. She’s really got it in for you.’

‘Elaine – did you talk to Eliot at the party? Were you there when he left?’

‘I spoke to him very briefly. I asked him about Gillian.’

‘You know who it is she’s been seeing. The father of her child …’

‘I think I do know. Yes.’

‘Roland.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I didn’t know for sure, Susan. I only suspected. I’m sorry – but I couldn’t come out with an accusation like that when I only had my feelings to go on. There was no proof.’

‘Elaine, I’ve got a favour to ask you.’

‘I’ll do anything I can to help.’

‘Do you think Charles would agree to see me?’

‘Charles? Why?’

‘I know it’s asking a lot and he’s got no reason to want to help me, but this isn’t just about me. It all goes back to Marble Hall. Eliot told me his grandmother was murdered. He saw something and he put it in his book. It turns out that Charles knew Eliot better than anyone. It’s just possible that Eliot may have said something to him.’

‘Charles never mentioned anything to me.’

‘Could you at least ask him? Charles befriended Eliot when he was ten years old. I met Edward Crace and he said that Charles was almost a second father to him. I think this whole thing begins with Eliot, Roland and Julia, but the family won’t talk to me. There’s no-one else I can ask.’

‘Well, I can talk to him. But I’ve got to warn you, Susan, you’re not his favourite person.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘I’ll do what I can. I have a call booked with him this afternoon.’

‘Thanks, Elaine.’

‘Take care of yourself, Susan. Stay strong.’

*

I had barely put the phone down before DI Blakeney and DC Wardlaw arrived. I saw the car pull in and, as if sensing trouble, Hugo jumped off the sofa and ran into the back bedroom. It was twelve thirty and I wasn’t looking my best after a rushed morning and a bad night’s sleep. On the other hand, I didn’t think they had come here to invite me out to lunch. I opened the door before they had time to ring the bell and immediately regretted it.

‘Were you expecting us, Susan?’ Blakeney asked.

‘No. I was on the phone. I saw you arrive.’

We sat in the kitchen. I didn’t offer them coffee.

‘We have a lot to talk about,’ Blakeney began. ‘And none of it is good news.’

‘It’s not good at all,’ Wardlaw added, portentously. What was wrong with that woman?

‘I might as well tell you straight away that the piece of fabric which we recovered from the grille of your car has been positively identified as coming from the jacket Eliot Crace was wearing last night. We have also found obvious bloodstains, both on your car and on the cloth, which have provided a one hundred per cent match.’

‘Well, that sounds pretty conclusive, Detective Inspector. Are you arresting me?’

‘You’re in a very serious situation, Susan. I won’t lie to you. But we’d like to speak to you first.’

‘Well …’ I spread my hands, a gesture of surrender. ‘I’ll help you any way I can. But I already told you. I didn’t drive to the party. I took the tube.’

‘You’re sure you wish to stick to that statement?’

‘Why would I want to change it?’

‘Because you could be perverting the course of justice,’ Wardlaw suggested.

I pretended I hadn’t heard that. I was doing my best to look relaxed, but they weren’t making it easy.

Blakeney was more reasonable. ‘We have new evidence, Susan. A witness has come forward with a sighting of a red MG speeding away from Trafalgar Square a minute after Eliot Crace was struck down,’ he explained. ‘The caller was only able to get two digits of the number plate, but they’re the same as yours.’

‘Did the caller give you their name?’

‘They did not. But that’s not unusual. You’d be surprised how many civic-minded people want to help the police but are nervous of getting involved.’

‘So they were anonymous.’

‘Yes.’

‘Were they male or female?’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t give you that information.’

‘Well, they’re lying to you. The car was parked outside this house all night. It would be there now if you hadn’t taken it.’

‘So how do you explain the damage to the grille and the forensic evidence?’ Wardlaw asked.

‘There can only be one explanation,’ I replied. ‘Someone is trying to incriminate me.’

‘You mean, someone came across the body in Kingston Street, recognised who it was and knew about his connection with you. They snipped a piece of bloody cloth off his jacket, then came out to Crouch End, found your car, kicked in the grille and planted the evidence. Is that what you’re saying?’ DC Wardlaw had done her best to make the proposition sound absurd and, to be honest, it hadn’t been difficult.

‘Exactly,’ I said.

Wardlaw sniffed.

‘Who do you think would want to do that?’ Blakeney asked.

‘It could be the killer Eliot named in his book, but it could also be anyone working for the Crace Estate. I’ve been thinking about it. This isn’t just about an unpleasant family with secrets they want to bury. It’s about a television and publishing deal worth literally hundreds of millions of pounds. When the stakes are that high, you’ll agree that people will go to extraordinary lengths.’ I glanced at Wardlaw. ‘And what may seem unlikely may be worth the risk.’

‘The last time we came here, you spun us a story about Eliot Crace revealing a murder in his book,’ she reminded me.

‘Concealing it, not revealing it. Yes, that could also be the reason someone killed him. But I didn’t have any reason at all. I liked him.’

‘He had just humiliated you in front of two hundred guests,’ Wardlaw reminded me.

‘I could live with that.’

‘And there was also that altercation at Boon’s,’ she continued. I had to admit, the two of them were fast movers. ‘Another argument – in which you accused him of assaulting his wife.’

‘It was true. He had.’

‘According to the people who were in the room, it turned into a shouting match. I don’t suppose you remember the last two words you spoke?’

‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

‘You told him to drop dead.’

‘He said much worse to me.’

‘You’re still alive.’

There was no answer to that. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I admit it doesn’t look good. But we talked about CCTV cameras. I went into Highgate tube station at around eight o’clock and arrived at Leicester Square about forty minutes later. You must have picked up an image of me somewhere.’

Blakeney shook his head. ‘We’re still looking, but you might as well know that one of the cameras at Highgate station was broken. If anyone had gone down the central stairs instead of taking the escalator and then stood at the right end of the platform, they’d have been invisible.’

‘What about the ANPR?’ That was one acronym I wasn’t going to forget.

‘Nothing there either, but I already explained, there are ways to get around it. We’ve had suspects fiddle with their number plates. You can turn an E into an F with black tape. Or an eight into a three. It’s not that difficult. If we find your MG was on the road somewhere between here and Kingston Street, then we will arrest you.’

‘You should admit what you’ve done,’ Wardlaw said. ‘You’ll make it much easier on yourself.’

‘That’s enough.’ Blakeney turned to his assistant. ‘You go and wait in the car. I’d like a quiet word with Ms Ryeland.’

Wardlaw looked annoyed, but she didn’t argue. ‘I need a cigarette,’ she announced, as if that was the only reason she was leaving. She sloped out, banging the door behind her.

Blakeney sat in silence for a few moments after she’d gone. When he looked up at me, he was almost apologetic. ‘Wardlaw is a good police officer,’ he said. ‘She may seem aggressive, but she’s got nothing against you.’

‘Except that she thinks I’m a liar and a killer,’ I said.

‘You must admit that the evidence is definitely weighing up against you, Susan.’

‘Then why haven’t you arrested me?’

Blakeney took his time before replying. I still hadn’t quite worked him out. He was certainly less aggressive than my old friend DS Locke. I got the sense that he might well be a decent man and that if we had met in other circumstances, we might have got on. I remembered that he had read all the Atticus Pünd novels and that certainly recommended him to me. I thought there was a slight melancholy about him. On the two occasions we’d met, I’d never seen him smile – not that I’d given him much reason to.

He ignored my question. ‘I want you to tell me something,’ he said. ‘If you didn’t kill Eliot Crace, who do you think did?’

‘That’s a very good question, Detective Inspector.’ I fell silent for a moment, not because I didn’t have an answer but because I wondered if it was something I ought to share. ‘Has Gillian Crace told you she’s pregnant?’ I asked.

‘Yes. I know all about that.’

‘You know she was having an affair.’

‘With her brother-in-law. Yes.’

I wished I could have been a fly on the wall when Blakeney and Wardlaw had conducted that interrogation. How had they managed to prise the information out of her? ‘I’d put Eliot’s brother, Roland Crace, high on my list,’ I said. ‘I think he’s a creep, but it’s more than that. Eliot was about to tell the world who killed Miriam Crace. He could have ruined the Netflix deal. And he was married to Gillian. That’s three reasons to kill Eliot, and Roland Crace is connected to all of them. You might also like to consider the fact that Roland will do anything his uncle Jonathan tells him, and that might have included planting evidence to get me out of the way.’

‘Interesting.’ I had thought Blakeney was being dismissive, but he was giving serious consideration to what I said.

‘Can I give you a word of advice, Detective Inspector?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘I’ve been here before. I know what I’m talking about.’ Was that the best way to start? I moved on quickly. ‘The two deaths are inextricably linked: Miriam Crace’s twenty years ago and Eliot Crace’s now. I still believe that the killer’s name was concealed in the book that Eliot was writing. He told me that himself and he said the same thing at the party. You need to read it.’

‘I understand it’s not finished.’

‘I was coming to that. Eliot had only written about half the book – but he must have made notes. I’m sure he wrote down a structure which will have a beginning, a middle … and an end. It could be on his laptop or maybe he used pen and paper. You’ve got access to his home. You can go in there and take it. You said you’d read all of Alan’s books.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you ever solve them?’

‘I guessed about half of them. Gin & Cyanide was easy. I knew it had to be the wife.’

‘Then put the two together – the manuscript and the notes – and you should have no trouble. If you want, I’ll help you. I’m not brilliant at solving murder mysteries, but I knew Alan and I worked with Eliot and I have a good idea about the way they both thought. It’s not just about clues. Half the characters in the book are based on people he knew. It’s very likely he was doing that to tell us something. And you have to look out for anagrams and word games – all that sort of stuff. The Chateau Belmar – Marble Hall. Alice Carling – Gillian Crace.’

‘He put his wife in the book?’

‘I’m afraid so. Eliot Crace wasn’t just writing a novel. I can see now that he was writing a suicide note. I couldn’t save him, but maybe you can help save me.’

‘You think you need saving?’

‘I might.’

He reached into his pocket and took out a business card. It had his name, rank and contact details printed on one side, but as I watched, he scribbled something on the back. ‘Well, if you want me to come to your rescue, you can reach me on this number. And if anything comes to mind that you’ve forgotten to tell me, you should use it too. My DS is going to ask me why I haven’t taken you into custody and right now I don’t have an entirely credible explanation except that I like you and I don’t think you have it in you to kill anyone.’

He handed me the card. I turned it over. He’d put his private number on the back.