‘Just let me know.’ She turned to Pünd. ‘You’re in the Captain’s Room, Mr Pünd. I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable there. And I’ve put your assistant on the floor above. If you’d like to leave your luggage here, I’ll have it brought up for you … ’

The Captain’s Room had originally been an office when the building had functioned as a customs house. It was very square with a bed where the desk might have been and two windows looking out over the Marine Parade and the beach on the other side. It still had a strong nautical feel: there was a sea chest at the end of the bed, a captain’s swivel chair in the corner and even a globe between the windows. Pünd was intrigued by the ship’s cabinet in the bathroom with its dozens of tiny drawers to keep things in place if there was a swell. Meanwhile, Miss Cain had been shown to a smaller room in the eaves. They were both tired after their long journey and so went to bed early, having had supper brought to their rooms on trays.

Pünd opened his eyes to blue skies and the sound of seagulls. It was half past seven when he came down to breakfast and the girl who had greeted them the evening before had not yet started work. Her place had been taken by a man with a moustache and slicked-back hair, dressed in a blazer and cravat. He had been laboriously typing a letter, using just one finger on each hand, but he looked up as Pünd appeared.

‘Good morning,’ he muttered. ‘You came down from London yesterday. Is that right?’

Pünd told him that it was.

‘Do you like your room?’

‘It is most comfortable, thank you.’

‘I’m Lance Gardner, the general manager. Let me know if there’s anything you need. I suppose you’ll be wanting your breakfast now.’

‘That was my intention.’

‘We don’t usually serve until eight. I’ll see if the chef has got in yet.’ But Gardner didn’t move. ‘Are you here about the murder?’

‘I am here to assist the police. Yes.’

‘I’m glad you’re not a journalist. We’ve had them crawling around the place all week – all on expenses, of course, drinking the bar dry. As for the police, if you ask me, they need all the assistance they can get. It’s been over a week now and they haven’t got anywhere, keeping us all here with their damn fool questions. It’s like living in Russia!’

‘You knew Miss James?’ Pünd asked, reflecting that actually Tawleigh-on-the-Water had very little in common with the Soviet Union.

‘Of course I knew her. She owned the hotel. I ran it for her – not that she ever gave me much thanks for it.’

‘You would not say that she was an easy person with whom to work?’

‘I’ll tell you the truth, Mr … ’

‘My name is Atticus Pünd.’

‘German? I’ll make no comment. I didn’t fight in the war. Rickets.’ He rubbed his neck as he considered what Pünd had asked. ‘Was she easy to work with? Well, I liked her. We had a good relationship. But the truth is, she didn’t know very much about the hotel business, certainly not the way we do things round here. Nothing’s cut and dried. When you’re working with farmers and fishermen who’ve been in Tawleigh for generations, you have to learn how to adapt. She wasn’t from this part of the world and she never quite worked it out. And that’s the truth of it.’

Lance Gardner had used the word ‘truth’ three times in almost the same sentence. From Pünd’s experience, people who were so insistent on the truth were very rarely telling it.

‘It must be very frustrating for you,’ Pünd suggested. ‘Awaiting the end of the investigation.’

‘I certainly won’t be sorry to see it over.’

‘Do you have any theory as to who might have killed her?’

Lance Gardner leaned forward, pleased to have been asked. ‘They’re all saying it was her husband. But then it’s always the husband, isn’t it? God knows, if my wife drove herself off Beachy Head, they’d say I was the one behind the wheel. They’d be quite wrong. I’d be pushing it from behind!’ He let out a bark of laughter. ‘Take it from me, Francis Pendleton doesn’t have it in him. He’s not a killer.’

‘Who then?’

‘If you ask me, it wasn’t anyone from around here. Melissa James was a star. She had all sorts of loopy followers and fans. They used to send her letters here at the hotel. They knew where she lived. It wouldn’t surprise me if one of them had come down here with some sort of lunatic scheme in his head and killed her simply because he didn’t like her last film or she hadn’t sent him an autograph or he just wanted to be famous like her. The police are blundering about asking questions, but I think they’re just wasting their time. And ours!’

‘It is an interesting theory, Mr Gardner. Where is the breakfast served?’

‘In the dining room.’ Gardner pointed. ‘Through those doors. I’ll see if the chef is around.’

Breakfast was surprisingly good. Pünd had purchased a copy of The Times, which had come down on the night train, and he read it as he ate scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and marmalade and a cup of strong tea from Ceylon. Miss Cain did not join him and he was not surprised. She was the sort of woman who was very sensitive to all the niceties and she would have considered it overfamiliar to have eaten breakfast even in the same room as her employer.

In fact, she appeared at nine o’clock, the same time that she began work in London, and the two of them repaired to the main living room. They were sitting there when, ten minutes later, Detective Chief Inspector Hare appeared. He saw them at once and joined them.

‘Mr Pünd?’ The detective chief inspector stood in front of him as Pünd got to his feet and the two men shook hands. Hare’s first impression was of a lean, smartly presented foreigner who seemed to carry a world of experience about him and who was already measuring him up with eyes that would miss nothing. He was right about that. Pünd was seeing a police officer who was being beaten down by a case that refused to unlock itself for him and who was approaching the edges of failure and disappointment. And yet at once there was a warmth between them, as if their coming together might finally open up new possibilities.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Hare, I believe.’

‘It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, sir. It goes without saying that your reputation precedes you.’

In fact, Hare had consulted his files in Exeter the moment he had heard that Pünd was on his way. He had read the details of several of his investigations, including the arrest of Luce Julien, an internationally renowned artist living in Highgate who had killed her husband with a palette knife on their fortieth wedding anniversary – a case that had brought him to fame just after the war. More recently, of course, the return of the Ludendorff Diamond had been the talk of the whole country.

‘May I introduce you to my secretary, Miss Cain?’

Pünd gestured and Hare shook hands with her too. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’

‘And can I offer you some tea?’

‘No, thank you, sir. I’ve just had breakfast.’

‘I hope you do not consider my presence here to be an intrusion,’ Pünd began as the two men sat down again.

‘Not at all, Mr Pünd. Quite frankly, I couldn’t be happier to see you.’ The detective drew a hand across his brow. ‘I’ve been a serving police officer for thirty years. For what it’s worth, I wanted to join the army when the war started but they wouldn’t let me. They said they needed me here. The fact of the matter is, though, that I’m not used to murder. In my entire time with the Devon and Cornwall Police, I’ve investigated barely a dozen cases and in the first three of them, the perpetrators turned themselves in the next day. Any help you can give me will be more than appreciated.’

Pünd was pleased. He had known straight away that he was going to get on with Hare and what he had just heard confirmed it. ‘You are fortunate, Detective Chief Inspector, to be living in a part of the country where violent crime is a rarity.’

‘You’re right there, Mr Pünd. In the war years, we had looting, racketeering, desertion. There was a lot of upheaval when everyone came home again and as you might expect, there were guns all over the place. But Devonshire folk don’t tend to do each other in. That’s been my experience – until now.’ He paused. ‘May I ask why you have taken an interest in this case, sir?’

‘Miss James’s agents in New York asked me to look into it on their behalf.’

‘Meaning, I suppose, that they have no faith in me.’

‘Whether that is true or not, Detective Chief Inspector, I can assure you it is not my opinion. I would like to think that we can work on this together.’

Hare’s eyes brightened. ‘I see absolutely no reason why not.’

‘You are already several days ahead of me. Perhaps you could share with me what you have found so far.’

‘Certainly.’