Pünd examined the servant with interest, wondering if he was looking at a man who, at the very least, had been prepared to commit murder. He thought not. Eric was aged in his forties and somehow childlike, although not in a good way. He was going bald, but he had allowed what hair remained to grow so that it touched his collar. He had a way of standing that was lopsided, giving the illusion that one arm was longer than the other.

‘Good morning, Detective Chief Inspector,’ Eric said.

‘Good morning, Eric. Can we come in?’

‘Of course, sir. I’m sorry about the dog. He always gets excited when there are strangers.’

The three of them were shown into the hall with oak floorboards and scattered rugs. A staircase with wooden bannisters led up to the first floor.

‘You can certainly tell whose house this was,’ Miss Cain said quietly.

It was true. The hall, which ran from the living room on one side to the kitchen on the other, was very spacious, a room in itself, and it had been decorated throughout with souvenirs of Melissa James’s career, starting with a glass-fronted cabinet that housed a dozen awards, including two Golden Globes. Displayed on twin tables were a strange assembly of objects that included a wicked-looking Turkish dagger studded with coloured stones. Pünd picked it up and was surprised to find that the blade was both real and serviceable. He did not often go to the cinema himself, but Hare had seen and had quite enjoyed Harem Nights, a comedy set in Istanbul. It reminded him now that Melissa, playing an English tourist, had been threatened with that very same knife in the final scene.

Meanwhile, Madeline Cain was examining the various pictures that decorated the walls. They were all film posters, including one from The Moonflower and another from The Wizard of Oz signed ‘To my brightest star, with love, Bert Lahr’.

‘I can’t remember her appearing in that one,’ she said, almost to herself.

Eric overheard her. ‘Mr Lahr appeared with Miss James in She’s My Angel and the two of them became good friends,’ he explained. ‘The Wizard of Oz was one of her favourite films.’ He swallowed hard. ‘It’s a terrible thing what’s happened. We’re all going to miss her more than I can say.’

The dog had finally decided that the new arrivals were to be trusted after all and had disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

‘We’d like to see Mr Pendleton,’ Hare announced.

‘Yes, sir. I’ll take you upstairs.’ Eric Chandler moved towards the stairs, his gait uneven, his shoulders swaying slightly. ‘Mr Pendleton is in the spare room,’ he confided. ‘He hasn’t been able to enter the master bedroom since this awful thing happened. You do know that the doctor has been with him?’

‘That’s why we want to see him straight away. We’ll talk to him. Then Mr Pünd will want to take a look around the house. And I expect he’ll want to talk to you.’

‘I’ll be with Mother in the kitchen.’

‘How is your mother, Eric?’

‘Still much the same, sir. She’s taken this all very badly.’ Eric shook his head. ‘I don’t know what will happen to us now. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

He led them upstairs to a corridor that ran from one side of the house to the other, with an archway at the far end. A velvet curtain had been drawn back to reveal a second hallway beyond. He pointed at a doorway beside the staircase. ‘That was Miss James’s room,’ he said. ‘The servants’ quarters are on the other side of the arch. Mr Pendleton is this way … ’

He turned left and took them to a door about halfway down. He knocked, at first quietly, then again with more force. ‘Come in.’ The voice coming from the other side was almost inaudible.

Eric stepped aside and Pünd, followed by Detective Chief Inspector Hare and Miss Cain, entered the darkened room. Although it was half past ten in the morning, the curtains had been drawn together and what little sunlight there was on another cloudy day had found itself unable to break in. Francis Pendleton looked the very image of an invalid, lying on the bed, propped up with pillows, wearing a dressing gown and pyjamas, his face colourless and emaciated, his arms stretched out helplessly at his sides. He turned his head as they entered and Pünd saw the emptiness in his eyes, the result of both grief and the drug he had been given to fight it. Of course, grief and remorse were close cousins. It was quite possible that Pendleton might have ended up in exactly this state if he had, in fact, killed his wife.

‘Mr Pendleton—’ Pünd began.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I know you.’

‘This is Mr Atticus Pünd,’ Hare explained, taking a seat beside the bed. ‘If it’s all right with you, sir, he wants to ask you a few questions.’

‘I’m so very tired.’

‘Of course, sir. You’ve been through a lot. We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.’

Madeline Cain had perched herself on a chair in the corner of the room, doing her best to keep out of sight. Pünd was the only one standing.

‘I can understand that this must have come as a great shock to you, Mr Pendleton,’ he said.

‘I loved her. You have no idea. She was everything to me.’ The words were almost disembodied. Pendleton wasn’t speaking to Pünd. He might not even have been aware that there was anyone with him in the room. ‘I met her on the set of her film. I was her assistant. It was just meant to be a laugh. I had no interest in cinema and I thought it was a stupid film – a girl being kidnapped, gangs and conspiracy. I knew it would be rubbish. But when Melissa came into the room, everything changed. It was like all the lights came on. I knew that I wanted to marry her. There was never anyone else.’

‘You had been married for how long, Mr Pendleton?’

‘Four years. I’m very tired. I’m sorry. Could we maybe talk later?’

‘Please, Mr Pendleton.’ Pünd took a step forward. ‘I must ask you about the day that it happened.’

Hare thought it was useless, that Pendleton was too drugged to remember anything. But the question seemed to rouse him. He sat up in the bed and gazed at Pünd with fear in his eyes. ‘The day that it happened! I’ll never forget it … ’

‘Your wife returned to the house from the Moonflower.’

‘It’s losing money. It’s those bloody managers of hers. I warned her against them but she didn’t listen to me. That was the thing about Melissa. She believed the best of everyone.’

‘But you think there was something crooked going on.’ Hare used the word deliberately. He was remembering what Simon Cox had said.

‘Crooked. Yes … ’

‘She had gone in to see Mr and Mrs Gardner?’ Pünd asked.

‘That’s right. She was going to have to sell the hotel. She didn’t want to but she had no option. Not if we were going to hang on to this place. But before she could sell it, she had to find out where the money was going … ’

‘She believed that her managers were stealing from her?’

‘I believed it. And she believed me.’

‘You saw her when she came home?’

‘I waited for her. I was supposed to be going to Barnstaple. We had tickets for the opera … The Marriage of Figaro. But she had a headache and she didn’t want to go. That’s what she said, but I think she just wanted to be on her own. She had all these troubles. I wanted to help her. I tried.’

‘So you went to the opera without her.’

‘Yes. The Marriage of Figaro. Did I tell you that?’

‘Before you left, the two of you talked for … ten minutes?’

‘Maybe a little longer.’

‘Did you argue?

‘No! You didn’t argue with Melissa.’ Pendleton smiled weakly. ‘You did what she wanted. I always did what she wanted. It was easier that way.’ He yawned. ‘We talked about the Gardners. She said she saw Nancy. And that producer. What’s his name? Cox! That was a nasty surprise. He’d followed her down here and he was waiting for her at the hotel.’ He settled back, resting his head in the pillows. It was clear that he would soon be asleep.

But Pünd still hadn’t finished. ‘Was it possible she was meeting somebody after she left the hotel?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. She’d have told me … ’

‘You were happy together.’

‘I have never been so happy since I met Melissa. How can you understand? She was rich. She was famous. She was beautiful. But it was more than all that. She was unique. I can’t live without her. I won’t … ’

Finally, the tranquilliser took effect. Francis Pendleton closed his eyes. A moment later he was sound asleep.

The three of them quietly left the room.

‘I’m afraid that wasn’t very much help to you,’ Hare said.

‘You have already interviewed him, Detective Chief Inspector, and if you will be so kind as to make your notes available to me … ’

‘I’ll have the transcripts sent over to you, Mr Pünd.’

‘I am sure they will tell me everything I need to know. But I will tell you straight away that the young man was not lying when he spoke to us of his love for Melissa James. The drug that he had taken may have confused his mind but not his heart.’ Pünd looked around him. ‘We will speak with him again, but for now it would be useful, I think, to visit the bedroom where the crime took place.’