‘We will,’ Webb assures him.

‘When she disappeared, I thought she’d left her husband. There was no big hue and cry then, even though her husband apparently reported her missing. I thought maybe she’d run away with another guy.’ Sharpe hesitates and adds, ‘Like I said, there was a lot of talk about her. I didn’t know if it was true or not – but then I saw it for myself.’ He pauses.

‘So who is this person you work with who you thought was having an affair with her?’ Webb asks.

Sharpe sighs heavily. ‘He wouldn’t have hurt her, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘A name?’

Sharpe says it reluctantly. ‘Larry Harris. He lives next door to Amanda and Robert Pierce.’

Webb shoots a glance at Moen, sees her eyes widen.

What interesting news, Webb thinks. It never ceases to amaze him what they dig up in the course of a criminal investigation – the secrets people keep. Or try to. ‘You’d better tell us exactly what you saw.’

Chapter Seventeen

OLIVIA COMES TO the door when Paul arrives home. He tosses his keys in the bowl on the side table in the hall and takes off his coat. It’s slick with rain. Olivia is always affected by the weather, her mood attuned to its changes. Sunny days make her cheerful. Dark, damp, dreary days like this one always get her down.

Last night she and Paul had lain in bed not speaking for the better part of an hour, until Paul had finally started snoring. Olivia got up and went downstairs and paced the carpeted living room for hours, worrying about Raleigh – and about Carmine coming after him. She fretted about Paul’s reluctance to send Raleigh to a therapist.

She thinks Paul is still angry with her. He said he’d forgiven her about the letters and that they needed to move on and deal with whatever happened, but it doesn’t feel that way.

She notices now that Paul hasn’t spoken to her. ‘That good, huh,’ she says lightly, but he barely looks at her.

‘I’m going to change,’ he says, finally giving her an absent smile.

She sees that his trousers are drenched. ‘Do you want something to warm you up?’

‘Scotch would be nice. I’m soaked.’

She pours her husband a drink and checks on dinner. Paul comes back downstairs to the living room and picks up the newspaper. She brings him his Scotch.

‘Anything interesting happen today?’ she asks.

‘No,’ Paul says, not looking at her. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary.’ She hands him his drink and he takes a sip. After a moment he turns to her and asks, ‘Have you heard anything more from that woman?’

He means Carmine, she’s sure.

‘No,’ Olivia says. She adds fretfully, ‘I wish this would all just go away.’ But she doesn’t believe that will happen. Instead, she feels as if Carmine is lying in wait for her.

Larry has only been home for an hour. His suitcase is still standing at the bottom of the stairs. Becky has made his favourite meal, lasagne and garlic bread. And pie. They’re just finishing up the pie. They’d talked about Amanda’s murder on the phone while he was away, and in more detail as they ate. It has clearly shocked him. She’s told him nothing about her own involvement in the investigation. She knows she will have to explain, and she dreads it. But he just got home, and she’s waiting for the right moment.

When the doorbell rings, she jumps up to answer the door. She sees the detectives dripping on her doorstep, and looks at them in disbelief. ‘He just got home,’ she says.

‘I’m afraid this can’t wait,’ Webb says. ‘May we come in?’

‘We’re eating dinner,’ she protests.

‘Who is it?’ Larry calls from the kitchen, and he appears behind her, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He comes up beside her. ‘Who’s this?’ he asks.

She knows there’s nothing she can do. She says wearily, ‘They’re the detectives I was telling you about. They’re investigating Amanda’s murder.’

Her husband says, ‘Come in.’ Webb brushes past her, followed by Moen. ‘Can I take your coats?’ Larry offers.

Becky watches her husband as he hangs up the detectives’ wet coats. Her heart is pounding in her chest and her mouth feels dry. Larry will never forgive her.

Becky turns on a couple of lamps and they all sit down in the living room. The night outside is dark and the rain beats against the front window.

‘I don’t know how much your wife has told you—’ Detective Webb begins, with a sidelong glance at Becky.

The bastard. ‘I haven’t told him much of anything,’ Becky says. ‘I told you he just got home.’ Larry flashes her a nervous look. Suddenly she just wants to get it over with. She can’t stand waiting for the axe to fall on her neck. ‘Larry, there’s something I have to tell you,’ she says. She feels almost short of breath. ‘I would have told you anyway,’ she swallows, ‘I swear, I would have—’

‘Told me what?’ Larry says. He looks uneasy.

She blurts it out, looking down at the floor. ‘I slept with Robert Pierce. When you were away. They found out when they were investigating him about his wife.’ She finally brings her eyes up to look at her husband. He’s sitting perfectly still, and has gone quite pale. ‘I’m sorry.’

Larry looks completely shocked. Of course he’s shocked. He would never expect this of her. She closes her eyes.

‘How could you?’ he says.

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeats miserably, opening her eyes.

Larry looks pointedly at the two police detectives and says, ‘Maybe you’d better leave.’

‘I’m afraid we have some questions before we go,’ Webb says.

Becky turns bitter, resentful eyes on the detective and waits. She doesn’t want to help them.

‘We talked to Paul Sharpe,’ he says.

Becky remembers what she told these same detectives that morning. She thinks uneasily of Olivia.

‘Paul?’ Larry interjects in surprise.

It occurs to her suddenly that maybe Larry knew about Paul and Amanda. Becky says, ‘Paul was seeing Amanda.’

‘We don’t know that,’ Webb says mildly.

She turns on him. ‘Did he deny it?’

‘Yes, he did.’

Becky snorts. She knows what she saw.

‘He admitted speaking to her that night, in her car,’ the detective says. ‘But he said he was warning her off. He believed she was having an affair with a colleague at work, and he was telling her to back off.’ Webb is looking at her husband as he says this.

‘A likely story,’ Becky says sarcastically, expecting her husband to back her up.

But Larry says nothing at all.

Webb continues. ‘In fact, he told us that he believed Amanda was having an affair with your husband – isn’t that right, Larry?’

Becky looks at her husband, stunned.

Now Larry is shaking his head, slowly, back and forth, frowning. ‘No. I wasn’t having an affair with her. I can’t believe Paul told you that.’

Becky’s mind is spinning. They’re all watching Larry.

‘It’s not true,’ Larry protests. ‘I wasn’t sleeping with Amanda.’ He looks at the rest of them defiantly.