‘No. I came to see my sister. It was actually Sam who introduced me to Melissa in the first place.’

‘And what investments were you advising her on?’ Hare asked.

‘It was a very wide portfolio, Detective Chief Inspector. But I can assure you that Melissa was completely happy with my advice.’

‘I’m certain that was the case, sir,’ Hare muttered. There was more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Algernon Marsh didn’t notice. He seemed to be in complete control of the situation, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’

‘You could perhaps tell us where you were between six o’clock and seven o’clock on the evening that the murder took place.’

‘I was here. I was sound asleep upstairs.’ Algernon smiled. ‘A little bit too much to drink at lunchtime. I was sleeping it off.’

So he must have been driving under the influence of alcohol, Hare thought. This wasn’t the right time to go into it, but he wouldn’t forget about it either. Instead he said: ‘Your sister informed us that you didn’t get home until seven.’

‘Then she was wrong. It was about a quarter past six. I came in and went straight upstairs.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m afraid nobody actually saw me, which is a bit of a shame. If you want me to supply you with an alibi, I haven’t got one.’

‘How much longer do you plan to stay in Tawleigh, Mr Marsh?’ Pünd asked.

‘A few more days. With Melissa gone, there’s not really much point in my hanging around.’

‘But just a moment ago, you remarked that you were here for your sister.’

‘I was here for both of them, Mr Pünd. Can I show you to the door?’

Moments later, the three of them found themselves walking away from the house as the front door slammed shut behind them.

‘Now that’s one man I wouldn’t trust an inch!’ Miss Cain muttered.

‘A nasty piece of work,’ Hare agreed. They passed the Peugeot, parked in the driveway, and Pünd glanced briefly at the silver badge and the dent in the radiator grille. ‘What now?’ the detective chief inspector asked.

‘I think we have done enough for today. I would like to read the transcripts of your interviews and to reflect on what we have seen. You will return to Exeter?’

‘No, Mr Pünd. I thought I’d stay on in Tawleigh now that you’re here. Margaret – my wife – won’t mind seeing the back of me for a few more days and the truth of it is, I want to spend as much time as I can with you. I have a feeling I might learn a thing or two. That said, I couldn’t afford the Moonflower, I’m afraid. I’ve taken a room at the Red Lion.’

‘You are too kind, Detective Chief Inspector. Maybe you would like to meet with me for dinner tonight.’

‘There’s nothing I’d like more.’

‘Then it is agreed.’

The three of them climbed into the police officer’s car and drove away, past the cemetery of St Daniel’s, past the freshly dug grave where Melissa James would soon lie.

ELEVEN

DARKNESS FALLS

I

The moon had risen over Tawleigh-on-the-Water but somehow the soft wash of the light only made the little harbour town seem all the darker. The streets were empty, the steeple of St Daniel’s a stark silhouette against the sky. The beam from the lighthouse flashed over a sea that went on for ever, and the fishing boats, bobbing up and down together, seemed almost afraid, lost in the void. It was impossible to tell where the shingle ended and the water began.

Detective Chief Inspector Hare walked the short distance from the Red Lion, his feet rapping against the pavement. It was funny how much sharper sound became once the sun had set. Although he had accepted the dinner invitation immediately, he was beginning to have second thoughts. He couldn’t ignore the obvious fact that just eight years ago England and Germany had been at war. Hare knew nothing about Pünd’s activities at the time and wondered if he should in some way consider him the enemy. The same thought applied to the case. Pünd had presented himself as an equal. He had suggested that they work together to find the killer. But was it actually true? Or was he destined to sit back and contribute nothing, simply watching as his last opportunity to prove himself was snatched away?

He had just spoken to his wife on the telephone and she had tried to put his mind at ease. She had always been proud of him. His career might be coming to an end, but no matter what happened in Tawleigh, he had nothing to be ashamed of. Anyway, wasn’t he getting his priorities wrong? Catching the killer was all that mattered, making sure he couldn’t ever do it again. It didn’t matter who took the credit.

She was right, of course. She always was.

Atticus Pünd was waiting for him in the reception area when he reached the Moonflower. Hare was surprised to see that he was alone.

‘Miss Cain isn’t joining us?’ he asked.

‘She has retired early to her room.’

In fact, the secretary had tactfully declined Pünd’s invitation, once again deciding it improper to eat with her employer. She was upstairs, perfectly happy to be on her own with a book, a hot-water bottle and an early night.

The dining room was attractive, formal without being fussy, and nearly all the tables were taken, mainly by families with children. Pünd had asked for privacy and the two men were shown to a table tucked away in an alcove next to a bay window. There was a menu with just two choices for each course. The detective chief inspector blinked when he saw the prices.

Pünd noticed. ‘You are, of course, my guest this evening,’ he said. ‘It is one of the benefits of being a private detective that, within reason, one is entitled to expenses.’

‘I wish it was the same in the police force,’ Hare said. ‘But the chief constable wouldn’t sanction so much as an iced bun in the station canteen. At least, he might – but it would take three committee meetings and a mountain of paperwork.’

‘How is the Red Lion?’

‘It’s surprisingly comfortable, thank you very much. No sea view, though. In fact, my room looks out over the butcher’s yard, which I suppose might be appropriate one way or another.’

The waitress came over and they both ordered prawn cocktails and Dover sole. Dessert was a choice of marmalade sponge or fruit salad. ‘You will have some wine?’ Pünd asked.

‘I’m not sure I should drink while I’m on duty.’

‘It is after seven o’clock, Detective Chief Inspector. And since I do not wish to drink alone, I must insist. A half-bottle of the Chablis I think.’

These last words were spoken to the waitress, who went to fetch it.

‘Well, if I’m off duty and having dinner on you, I think you should call me by my first name, Mr Pünd.’

‘And what is that?’

‘Edward.’

‘And I, as you know, am Atticus.’

‘Is that a Turkish name?’

‘Greek, in fact, although my parents moved to Germany before I was born.’

‘Was your father a policeman?’

‘He was. How did you know?’

Hare smiled. He was already warming to the man sitting opposite him and regretted his earlier hesitation. ‘My dad was a detective too and my sergeant’s the son of a serving policeman. It’s funny how often it runs in the family. That’s true of criminals too, incidentally.’

Pünd considered. ‘Yes. That is very interesting and true. It is something which I may consider in the book I am writing – The Landscape of Criminal Investigation.’

‘Interesting title.’

‘A life’s work. Your parents are still living?’

‘They’re both alive and well. They retired to Paignton. I have a son and a daughter and they both want to continue the tradition. We’re recruiting more and more policewomen, I’m happy to say.’

‘Perhaps one day it will be your daughter who is the chief constable.’

‘That would be something. Do you have children?’

Pünd shook his head a little sadly. ‘No. That was not to be my good fortune.’

Hare felt he had strayed into a difficult area and quickly changed the subject. ‘Were you a private detective before you came to England?’

‘No. I arrived after the war and had to find a means to earn a living.’

‘Well, you’ve done very well for yourself. I envy you. You must have come across some fascinating criminals.’

‘Criminals rarely fascinate me, my friend.’

‘Is that so?’

Pünd thought for a minute. ‘They think, always, that they are cleverer than they really are, that they have the ability to defeat the police, the rule of law, the very essence of society in order to achieve their ends.’

‘It makes them dangerous.’

‘It makes them predictable. What makes them dangerous is their belief that they should not be stopped, that they are justified in what they do. I will not speak of my experiences in the war, but I will say this. The greatest evil occurs when people, no matter what their aims or their motives, become utterly convinced that they are right.’

The first course came and with it the wine. Pünd did the tasting and nodded his satisfaction.