Apparently I had died suddenly as the result of a tragic accident. Just imagine if Jill had taken that call.’ She blinked up at him and buried her face in his chest. ‘Later that day, just to complete this hilariously funny sick joke, a firm of monumental masons sent me a quotation for my headstone. That was when I called in the police… not that it did us any damn good. The next day our ornamental pond was full of dead fish. They’d been poisoned. The maniac had poured bleach in. Then he phoned me.’

Gilmore’s head shot up. ‘Phoned you?’

‘He said, “Dead fish first, dead people next.” Then he hung up.’

‘Did you recognize the voice?’ asked Gilmore.

‘Of course I didn’t recognize it. Would we be sitting here wondering who it was if I did?’

Gilmore flushed. It would almost be worth his job to smack the smug bastard one in the mouth. ‘Can you describe the voice, sir?’

‘It was obviously disguised. Very soft, almost a whisper. You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Things came through the post – newspaper cuttings, obituaries of people called Compton, or reports of killings or sudden deaths with the victim’s name crossed out and our name written in. Charming little things like that.’

‘Right,’ said Gilmore. ‘Whoever is doing this must hate you. Any suggestions?’

‘Don’t you think we’ve racked our brains, trying to think of something?’ barked Compton. ‘There’s no rhyme nor reason behind this. I keep telling you, this is the work of someone with a sick mind.’

‘Sick minds or not, sir, they’ve got to have a reason for picking on you in the first place.’

Jill Compton caught her breath and her eyes widened as if a thought had suddenly struck her. ‘Mark… that man who tried to pick a fight with you!’ She rose from his lap and sat on the arm of the chair.