Frannie was shaking her head back and forth wearily. How had it all come to this so quickly? She closed her eyes and forced her voice to remain calm, rational. ‘Look, Mr Randall, what do you want me to say? I’m late picking up my children, that’s what I’m thinking about. I’m not having any affair with Ron Beaumont, and never did. I never met his wife. I don’t think Ron’s problems with his relationship led to his wife’s death.’

‘Let us decide that, Mrs Hardy. You’ve admitted that the problems existed. Just tell us what they were.’

Frannie didn’t know it, but Scott Randall and the grand jury had already heard Ron Beaumont say that Bree and he were getting along fine and there were no problems between them. Scott thought it might be a good time to mention this to Frannie. She sat still, her face a blank now.

‘Mrs Hardy?’

‘I promised him it would remain between us and I wouldn’t tell anybody. I gave him my word.’

Scott sensed an opening. ‘Mrs Hardy, let’s be realistic. No one believes that promises are that sacred anymore. This could be a crucial element in a murder investigation. Are you sure you haven’t mentioned what Mr Beaumont told you to your husband or one of your girlfriends?’

She was staring at him, trying to keep her anger in check. More tears threatened. A drop escaped from her right eye. ‘I promised,’ she repeated. ‘I gave my word.’

Scott looked back out to the jurors. He took a beat and sighed. ‘All right, Mrs Hardy,’ he said, ‘You don’t leave me any choice.’

By four thirty, Superior Court Judge Marian Braun had already had a long day on the bench presiding over an unusually depressing murder trial. Members of a gypsy clan had convinced several wealthy old people that they were their friends. They had persuaded them to sign over their assets, and then poisoned them with ‘magic salt’ – digitalis. The magic salt was a big yuk – the defendants had giggled as they sprinkled it on. Marian Braun was used to bad people committing heinous crimes, but this one got under her skin.