‘No.’

So they weren’t that close then. She saw what I was thinking. ‘I was closer to Aiden than I was to Cecily. He was the one who showed me round Oaklands, and when I moved in he made sure everything was all right. I told him about me and Alan and he sort of took me under his wing. He arranged the free pass at the spa for me and I had dinner with him once or twice.’

‘So how well did you get to know him?’ I asked.

‘Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? The thing about you, Susan, is that you always were very direct, never one to spare anyone’s feelings.’ She half smiled. ‘Aiden and I weren’t in a relationship. We didn’t have sex. The first time I met him was a few weeks before he got married, for heaven’s sake! Anyway, he wasn’t like that. He never tried anything on.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ I said, although of course that had been exactly the thought in my mind.

‘I saw him maybe half a dozen times. And for what it’s worth, when I had dinner with him, Cecily was there too.’

‘What did you think of her?’

‘She seemed nice enough although she didn’t talk very much. She was probably nervous about the wedding. She’d had an argument with her sister and perhaps that had thrown her.’

‘Do you know what they had argued about?’

‘I have no idea. I’m not sure there was very much love lost between them.’ She paused. ‘Actually, I seem to remember that Stefan’s name came up. He was the man who was accused of the murder, wasn’t he? Cecily was annoyed that Lisa had fired him.’

‘Did you see much of Stefan?’

‘I saw him once. He came over to Oaklands to unblock a drain. I gave him five pounds as a tip.’

The waiter arrived with a tray. She waited until he had gone.

‘I didn’t really notice a lot of what was going on when I came here, Susan,’ she continued. ‘You’ve got to remember that I was in a difficult position. The man I was married to and who was the father of my child had just told me he was gay and that he wanted a divorce. We’d sold our house in Orford. Freddy and I had no idea where we were going to live.’

Freddy was her son. He had been twelve years old at the time. ‘Did Freddy stay with you at the cottage?’

‘Some of the time. It was one of the reasons why I rented it. He’d just started at Woodbridge School and I wanted to be close.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘He’s at St Martin’s School of Art.’

I remembered that he’d been applying when Melissa and I last met. ‘I’m glad he got in,’ I said.

‘So am I. I think what Alan did to Freddy was quite cruel. I’ve got absolutely no problem with a gay man coming out and I didn’t even mind that it ended our relationship. I mean, I wasn’t happy about it but I tried not to blame him. If that was his sexual identity, there was no point trying to hide it. But it was different for Freddy. He was twelve years old, in a new school, and suddenly he was reading about his famous gay father in all the newspapers. I have to say that the staff and teachers at Woodbridge School were marvellous, but of course he was teased and bullied. You know what boys are like. Alan never offered him any support. By then, he’d met James and moved into Abbey Grange and all we ever got from him were the monthly cheques.’

‘Did Freddy ever stay with him?’

‘He didn’t want to. I tried to build bridges. I thought that was the responsible thing to do. I was wasting my time. Freddy didn’t want anything to do with him.’

I’d witnessed that for myself. Freddy Conway had come reluctantly to his father’s funeral in Framlingham two years ago. He had shown no emotion apart from a desire to leave as soon as he could.

‘It’s extraordinary to think that you were actually here at the hotel the weekend that Frank Parris was killed,’ I said.

‘Who told you that?’

‘Lionel Corby.’ She had forgotten who he was so I reminded her. ‘He ran the spa.’

‘Oh. You mean the Australian. Leo. Yes, I used to train with him.’

‘Leo?’

‘That was what I always called him.’

It was a thought that had never occurred to me. ‘Did anyone else call him that?’ I asked.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. Why? Is it important?’

I didn’t answer. ‘He said you were angry about something.’

‘When?’

‘On the Thursday.’

‘I really can’t remember, Susan. It was a long time ago. It was probably nothing. Leo could be quite annoying. He was very full of himself. Maybe he’d pissed me off.’

She was right about Lionel. I’d thought the same when I met him in London. Even so, I got the feeling there was something else on her mind. ‘Did you know Frank Parris?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘You’d met him?’

‘I’d seen pictures of him in Campaign and Alan had talked to me about him.’

‘He arrived that same Thursday at the hotel.’

‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘All right. It was quite an unpleasant surprise. I saw him in reception on the way to the spa. Maybe that was why I was in a bad mood.’

She leaned towards me. There were a couple of other people in the lounge and she didn’t want to be overheard. ‘Look, I’ve been very straight with you about me and Alan,’ she began. ‘We were married. He was gay. We got divorced. I’m not saying that things could have turned out any differently, but Frank Parris was the gatekeeper, if you like. He was the one who took Alan in hand and introduced him to this whole new world – the gay scene in London. They slept together, although Frank wasn’t Alan’s type. Alan liked younger boys from the very start. But Frank also took him in hand there – so to speak. He took him to clubs and helped him to find paid sex with kids barely out of their teens. And some of the stuff he was getting up to! I mean, I’m liberal-minded enough, but really, I didn’t want to know.’

‘He told you about it?’

‘He got drunk once. He told me enough.’

‘So you blamed Frank Parris.’

‘Not enough to hammer him to death, if that’s what you’re getting at, Susan. But let’s just say I didn’t shed too many tears when I heard the news.’

Despite myself, I was warming to Melissa. When she had accosted me in the hotel reception, she had seemed hostile and accusatory. It was also hard for me to forget that she had once had a relationship with Andreas – admittedly, before I met him. But the more she spoke, the more thoughtful and intelligent she seemed. She had been the creator of Atticus Pünd as much as Alan. In another life, we would have been friends.

‘You know that Alan dedicated the book to Frank Parris,’ I said.

‘Atticus Pünd Takes the Case? Actually, I didn’t. I never read it.’

‘It’s the reason I’m here, Melissa.’

‘I know. Aiden told me. Alan came to the hotel six weeks after the murder. He asked lots of questions. And then he used it all for his new story.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s so typical of him. He could be a complete bastard when he wanted to be – which was most of the time, now I come to think about it.’

‘You didn’t see him when he was here?’

‘No. I was away, thank God. I wouldn’t have wanted to run into him. Not then.’

‘He put a lot of the people who worked here into the book. Lawrence and Pauline Treherne. Derek Endicott. Aiden. The main character is called Melissa. Maybe he was thinking of you.’

‘What happens to her?’

‘She gets strangled.’

Melissa laughed at that. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. He was always playing games. He did the same thing in Atticus Pünd Investigates and No Rest for the Wicked. And Magpie Murders, of course.’ She looked me straight in the eye. ‘Did he make Aiden the killer?’

‘No.’

‘He’s not, Susan. Believe me. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Nobody was kinder to me than Aiden when I first came here, and I told you, I saw him with Cecily. She was quite childish. She reminded me a bit of Dora in David Copperfield. A bit soppy. She never had anything very interesting to say. But Aiden was all over her. I think I’m a good judge of character and I can tell you, he’d never do anything to hurt her. You turning up and accusing him—’

‘I haven’t accused him of anything, Melissa.’

‘That’s not how he sees it.’

We might have begun an argument but just then Lars appeared, coming over to the table. ‘Miss Ryeland?’ he asked.

‘Yes?’

‘Do you drive a red MGB?’

‘Yes.’ I was puzzled and concerned.

‘Someone has just rung reception. They say you’re blocking their way.’

I had parked half an hour ago and as far as I could remember, I hadn’t been near another car. ‘Are you sure?’

Lars shrugged.

I looked at Melissa. ‘I’ll be two minutes,’ I said.

I got up and left the lounge where we had been sitting. I entered the circular entrance hall and walked out the front door. What happened next was a series of images that hit me one after another, forming a sequence that told a story but would only make sense later.