The sergeant turned round, but Pascoe had closed the door of his temporary office behind him with a bang. The sergeant went back to his desk whistling, 'Dear Lord and Father of mankind'.

It was, after all, Sunday.

'Sorry to get you out of bed, Mrs Fernie,' said DetectiveConstable Edwards. 'Don't apologize,' interjected Fernie. 'I told her this might happen last night.'

'Last night? Why was that, Mr Fernie?'

'Well, I happened to notice your cars pull up outside Connon's house…' 'Happened to notice!' sneered Alice Fernie, pulling her nylon housecoat closer round her. 'You must have been stood at that window for half an hour or more.' Fernie started to reply but the constable interrupted them. The important point to ask both of you is, did you notice anything earlier on?' 'Anything? What kind of thing? How much earlier?' asked Alice. 'Anything at all concerned with the Connons or their house. Any time yesterday.'

'Well, no. I was over there in the afternoon…'

'Over there?' The constable leaned forward.

'Did you know the Connons well, then?'

'Mary Connon, I know – knew her very well. We were friends,' said Alice; then, 'We were friends,' she repeated softly to herself, as though the import of the comment was just beginning to sink in.

'And how did Mrs Connon seem to you then?'

'Oh fine, fine. Just the same as ever. Nothing out of the ordinary.'

'Did she say anything that struck you as unusual?'

'No.'

'Were there any phone calls? Any callers?'

'No, nothing.'

'What time did you leave?'

'Shortly after four. I don't know exactly. I came back to get Dave's tea ready.'

'What were Mrs Connon's last words?'

'Last words?' 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound… what did Mrs Connon say as you left?' 'Well, nothing really. Cheerio. And something about getting Mr Connon's tea ready, if he got home in time for it.'