I wasn’t there when Frank Parris booked in. That was on Thursday afternoon and I was at home in Southwold. I saw him very briefly early on Friday morning when I drove to the hotel. He was getting into a taxi. I caught sight of him wearing a light, fawn-coloured blazer and white trousers. He had curly silver hair, a bit like the boy in that painting by Millais, if you know what I mean. And the thing is I had an idea he was trouble even then. It’s easy enough to say it after the event, but he was arguing with the driver who was a regular at the hotel, a very reliable man who was only a couple of minutes late, and I got the sense of a passing cloud. In my view, and I’m not afraid to say it, he and Alan Conway were two of a kind.

We had a party on Friday night. We wanted to thank the staff for all their hard work and of course they would be busy the next day so it seemed only fair. We had it out by the swimming pool. It was a lovely evening, perhaps a little too warm. There was sparkling wine, canapés, Pimm’s. Cecily made a speech thanking everyone. It was very much appreciated.

I suppose you’ll want to know who was there. Well, basically it was the entire staff, including Anton who was the chef, Lionel, Natasha, William (he looked after the grounds), Cecily, Aiden, Lisa, Pauline and myself and, of course, Stefan. I invited very few of the family, although I seem to remember that Pauline’s brother was there. And Aiden’s mother, who was very sweet, looked in for about ten minutes before she went to bed. This was meant to be a hotel event rather than part of the wedding. I could send you a complete list if you want it but there were about twenty-five people in all.

I need to tell you about Stefan and I might as well start by saying that despite everything that happened, I always liked him. I found him quiet, hard-working, polite and, at least as far as I could see, grateful for the opportunity we had given him. Cecily was exactly of my mind. As you know, she defended him quite passionately, at least to start with, and she was terribly disappointed when he confessed to the murder. It was only Lisa who had any doubts about him. She was convinced he was pilfering and it gives me no pleasure at all to acknowledge that in the end she was proved right. I wish now that we’d all listened to her sooner and got rid of Stefan but there’s no point going over all that now.

In fact, Lisa and Stefan had met the day before – that was the Thursday – and she had given him his notice. So by the time he came to the pool party on Friday evening, Stefan knew that he was on his way out. We were giving him a generous pay-off – three months’ wages – by the way, so he wasn’t exactly going to starve, but even so it may well explain what happened consequently. That evening he got quite drunk. Lionel, the spa manager, had to help him back to his room. Maybe he had already decided that he was going to make up for his loss of salary by stealing from the guests. I don’t know. I don’t know why Lisa had to take the action she did two days before the wedding. It could have been better timed.

One other thing about the party before I move on. Derek Endicott didn’t come. He was in a strange mood that evening. I did try to talk to him but he seemed quite distracted, as if he’d had bad news. I should have mentioned this to you before but I’m only remembering it now as I write everything down. Pauline said he looked as if he’d seen a ghost!

Derek was on duty that night. Pauline and I went home at about half past ten. According to the police, Frank Parris was murdered sometime after midnight, attacked with a hammer in room 12, where he was staying. We knew nothing about that until later.

Pauline and I arrived at the hotel the following day, the day of our daughter’s wedding, at ten o’clock. We had coffee and biscuits with the guests and the service took place in the rose garden, which is on the south side of the house, on the other side of the ha-ha. It took place at midday with the registrar from Suffolk County Council. Lunch was at twelve forty-five in the marquee with a hundred and ten guests arranged over eight tables. There was a fabulous menu. A Thai cashew and quinoa salad, then poached salmon and then a white peach frangipane galette. I was quite nervous because I had to make a speech and I’ve never been very comfortable with public speaking, but as things turned out I never said a word. Nobody did.

The moment I became aware that something was wrong was when I heard someone screaming outside the hotel. The sound was muffled by the canvas but it was still clear that something was very wrong. Then Helen came into the tent. Helen was our head of housekeeping. She was a very reliable, quiet woman and nothing would normally ruffle her feathers, but I could see at once that she was very upset. My first thought was that the hotel must be on fire because there was no earthly reason for her to come in otherwise. At first, she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. She asked me to come with her and although the first course was about to be served, I realised I had no choice.

Natasha was waiting outside and she was in a terrible state, as white as a sheet with tears running down her cheeks. She was the one who had found the body and it was an absolutely horrible sight. Frank Parris had been wearing his pyjamas. He was lying on the bed, not in it, with his head smashed in so that he was unrecognisable. There was blood everywhere as well as bits of bone and all the rest of it. Horrible. Helen had already called the police, which was exactly the right thing to do, but of course as you can imagine that signalled an immediate end to the wedding and sure enough, even as we spoke outside the marquee, I heard the first sirens heading our way from the A12.

It’s almost impossible to describe what happened next. A perfect English wedding was turned, in a matter of minutes, into a total nightmare. Four police cars turned up in the end and we must have had a dozen or more officers and detectives and photographers and forensics swarming over the grounds. The first person to arrive on the scene was a detective inspector called Jane Cregan and I have to say she did a very good job taking charge. Some of the guests were coming out of the tent wondering what was going on and she made them all go inside and then went in and explained something of what had happened.

She was very sensitive to the situation, but the fact was the party was over and nobody was allowed to leave. One minute they were wedding guests, now they were either suspects or potential witnesses and the marquee had become a giant holding pen. The ones I felt most sorry for were Aiden and Cecily, of course. They had a room booked in London and a flight leaving the next day for their honeymoon in Antigua. I talked to Miss Cregan about them being allowed to go. They couldn’t have had anything to do with the murder. Neither of them had even met Frank Parris. Well, briefly, the day before. But it didn’t make any difference. We got the money back on our insurance in the end and they went to the Caribbean a couple of weeks later, but still, it was hardly a great start to married life.

Part of me still wishes that Natasha hadn’t gone into room 12 until later in the day. Maybe Aiden and Cecily could have got away before the body was discovered. Natasha had started work at half past eight and she had gone past room 12 on her way to the Moonflower Wing. At the time, she was sure there had been a ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice on the door and she had decided to leave it until last. When she went back just after one o’clock, the sign wasn’t there. It was actually found in a dustbin further down the corridor. It had been thrown away.

The police did wonder about that. Stefan Codrescu might have placed the sign on the door to disguise what he had done, but when you think about it, there wouldn’t have been any point and why would he have taken it off again later? Later on he denied touching it, although the police found his fingerprints on it along with a tiny sample of Frank Parris’s blood – so he was obviously lying.

To be honest, it’s something I’ve often thought about and it still makes no sense. The sign was there at half past nine and at one o’clock it was in the bin. What possible explanation can there be? Did someone find the body and feel a need to hide it for three and a half hours? Did Stefan feel a need to go back into the room? In the end, the police decided that Natasha must have got it wrong. Unfortunately, you can’t talk to her. She went back to Estonia and I have no idea where she is. I also heard that Helen died a couple of years ago. She had breast cancer. Perhaps DI Cregan can help.

As for Stefan, he had kept a low profile on the day of the wedding. He may have been nursing a hangover, but when I saw him he was sulky and in a bad mood. The toilet off the entrance hall had blocked and he had to deal with it, which wasn’t particularly pleasant, but you might as well know that I felt duty-bound to tell the police that he looked as if he’d been awake half the night. His eyes were bleary with lack of sleep. He had a master key to all the rooms and so it would have been easy for him to enter room 12. And he looked exactly like someone who had just committed a horrible crime and was waiting for the axe to fall.

I hope this helps you. I’m still waiting to hear your thoughts on the book. As to your other request, if you would like to give me your partner’s bank details, I would be happy to send you an advance on the sum that we agreed. Shall we say ￡2,500?

Best wishes

Lawrence Treherne

PS The name of the guest we moved out of room 12 was George Saunders. He had been the headmaster at Bromeswell Grove secondary school and had come to Suffolk for a reunion. LT