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I did almost nothing until Blakeney arrived. I sat in a chair in the middle of the wreckage, trying not to look at it, vaguely wondering who had done this to me. Someone thought I had killed Eliot Crace and had decided to punish me – that had to be the motive. But who could have loved Eliot so much that they felt themselves driven to this course of action? Gillian, perhaps. Or Roland. He could have allowed the guilt of what he had done to his younger brother, along with the fact that I had found out about it, to propel him into this madness. I wasn’t thinking straight and I was utterly miserable and drained. It was only the fact that Hugo had managed to survive and was, miraculously, going to be all right that was holding me together. I’d never been, by nature, an animal lover. I suppose I’d become one now.

The entire flat reeked of wine and spirits, which was ironic as my visitor hadn’t left me a drop to drink. Not that I wanted anything. I’d always associated alcohol with friendship and celebration. I wasn’t going to pour it into myself like medicine. I reached down and picked up the Amazon parcel that had been delivered sometime that afternoon. All in all, I didn’t think I would be able to stay here. I wished I had never come back. Bloody Alan Conway! When was I going to learn to stay away from him?

The doorbell rang. I went over and opened the door.

Blakeney came in, casually dressed this time, no suit or tie. He looked around the flat and I saw the expression on his face, the disbelief. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Not really.’

‘I’m not surprised. This is horrible. When did you get in?’

‘About five o’clock.’ It was now well after seven. ‘I had to take the cat to the vet. Whoever did this also stuck a knife in him.’

‘How is he?’

‘Amazingly, he’s going to be OK.’

‘And how long had you been out?’ I was surprised how quickly he had set about interrogating me. There was no small talk, no coffee or tea. But I didn’t mind. This time it felt as though he was on my side.

‘I left around one o’clock. I’ve been out all day.’

‘Where?’

‘HMP Belmarsh.’

That stopped him in his tracks. He examined me briefly, as if I was deliberately lying to him, realised I was serious and came to a decision. ‘This is what we’re going to do,’ he said. ‘First of all, I’m going to look around and check that the place is secure and that whoever did this hasn’t left any other unpleasant surprises. You don’t have CCTV installed?’

‘No.’

‘No alarms?’

‘No. I only moved in a few months ago.’

‘Yes. You told me. Does anyone else have a key?’

‘No. Just me. I think they got in through the garden. The door into the street doesn’t close properly.’

‘I’ll take a look. You wait for me here.’

He left the room. Despite everything, I was impressed. He was very different to the man who had threatened to arrest me just a short while ago. He was milder, more softly spoken and, like the vet, immediately professional. I waited a couple of minutes before he came back. ‘There’s no-one here,’ he said. ‘And you’re right. They came through the garden and forced the French windows. It wouldn’t have been difficult. The lock is flimsy.’ He paused. ‘I saw the message left for you in the bedroom.’

‘Killer.’

‘Yes. And the blood on the carpet.’

‘That was the cat.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He took a breath. ‘Do you have anywhere you can go? A friend or a relation who can put you up?’

‘I have a sister in Suffolk, but I don’t really fancy traipsing up there.’

‘All right. I’ve made a few calls. This is a crime scene now and I’ve got a team coming in. They’ll take photographs, look for fingerprints … any other evidence. I also know a company who can clear up some of this mess. But you’ll need to book into a hotel or somewhere for a few days. I wouldn’t advise you to stay here.’

‘I have friends in Muswell Hill. They may be able to put me up.’

‘Have you had anything to eat?’

‘No.’

‘Then you’d better come out and have some dinner. I’m sure it’s the last thing you want right now, but you’ve had a terrible shock and something warm and a glass of wine will do you good. There must be somewhere in Crouch End. I’ll come with you.’ I was about to protest but he stopped me. ‘We need to talk about this, Susan. We can’t do it here and I don’t think you’ll find it very pleasant in a police station. Especially after a day in Belmarsh.’

‘Who will look after all this?’ I asked.

‘Emma Wardlaw is on her way.’

‘I’d prefer not to see her, if you don’t mind.’

‘Then why don’t you go and get changed. Try not to move anything, but you can use the sink in the bathroom to wash your hands.’ I looked puzzled. ‘You’ve got bloodstains all over you.’ There was the faintest twinkle in his eye as he added: ‘When I arrived, my first thought was that you’d murdered someone else. You go and get yourself ready. I’ll wait here.’

*

We went to an Italian restaurant near the Clock Tower and I ordered soup and spaghetti: comfort food. We shared a carafe of red wine. Blakeney didn’t say anything about drinking on duty and we hadn’t discussed who was going to pay. We had a banquette in a quiet corner and the restaurant was only half-full, which made it easier to talk. While I waited for the food to arrive, I tried to get used to the idea that I was having dinner with the senior detective who was investigating me; at the same time, I examined him in this new, more sympathetic light.

Fifty years old and unmarried, I thought. No sensible woman would have allowed him to set that brown Marks a tiny measure of espresso in a porcelain cup. ‘There’s one thing you haven’t told me,’ I said. ‘And it was almost the first thing I asked you. Do you think I killed Eliot Crace?’

He had been about to drink his tea, but he put it down.

‘I would have thought the answer to that would be obvious, Susan. If I thought you were a killer, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you and I certainly wouldn’t have told you anything about myself. All that stays between us, anyway. I hope you understand that.’

‘Of course.’

‘I won’t lie to you. You’re a person of interest and we’re still searching for any sighting of your car in central London on the night Eliot Crace was killed.’

‘You won’t find it. It never left Crouch End.’

‘But unless it was planted, there’s strong forensic evidence that puts your MG at the scene of the crime, including dust samples in the tyre treads that definitely came from Kingston Street, although you’ll probably say that they could have been planted too. But let’s not forget that we have a witness statement that has you driving away from Trafalgar Square.’

‘An anonymous witness statement.’

‘That makes no difference. They were still able to give us part of your registration number – and if it’s not true, it does make you wonder how many people there are in this city with a grudge against you.’

‘It sometimes feels like it’s half the population,’ I agreed.

‘But on the plus side, I know everything about what happened with you and the death of Alan Conway. I’ve spoken to Detective Superintendent Locke – who doesn’t send you his regards and didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about you. But even he thought it unlikely that you had it in you to kill anyone.’

‘That’s very nice of him.’

‘I’ve come to the same conclusion. Eliot Crace humiliated you in front of a large group of people. Thanks to him, you’ve lost your job. The motive’s there, but I’d be very surprised if you had the temperament. You strike me as a very sensible person and the fact that you spent half the day at Belmarsh Prison is proof that you believe in your own story, even if it’s one of the most unlikely things I’ve ever heard. All of which leaves me in a bit of a quandary. Where do we go from here?’

‘The answer’s in the book.’

‘ Pünd’s Last Case . Yes.’ He raised a hand, calling for the bill. ‘Just so you know, Susan, I’ve been round to Eliot’s home in Notting Hill Gate. I’ve read his book, or as much of it as he’d written, and I’ve also got hold of his notes.’

My heart leapt. ‘Can I see them?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t give them to you. They’re evidence. But we can look at them together, if you fancy doing that. You’ve been here before, so you probably have a good idea what might be hidden inside the text. You talked about anagrams and you’ve already found two of them. It’s always possible that Eliot came up with a third, although I haven’t managed to locate it just yet. Maybe we’ll have more luck if we combine our efforts.’

‘You’re allowed to do that?’

‘I can do whatever I think is right if I think it’s going to solve the case. And you haven’t been arrested. Yet.’

‘I wish you’d left off the “yet”, Ian,’ I said.

The bill had arrived and we split it fifty-fifty. Then he drove me home.