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Khan, you’re missing my point. We don’t have a formal time of death yet, but it’s clear that Andrew Crookham had been dead for at least two hours before the pathologist examined his body. If your client’s alibi holds up, he cannot possibly have committed the murder. Meanwhile his wife, who almost certainly was in the house at the time of the death, is covered with blood. She appears to be in a very disturbed state of mind. A knife, also covered in blood, was recovered at the scene of the crime. It will be examined for fingerprints and DNA evidence. In the meantime it would be very helpful to be given some idea of Mrs Crookham’s mental state at the time her husband arrived home.’
    ‘If she’s ever charged, maybe it would be,’ said Khan, ‘but not before.’
    ‘The closer to the events described, the more powerful the evidence.’
    ‘I’ll answer your questions,’ I said. I didn’t care how much evidence the police said they had, it was inconceivable to me that Mariana could be guilty.
    Khan glared at me: ‘Well then you do so against my advice.’
    Yeats looked pleased at his victory. ‘So, your wife: how did she sound?’
    ‘Odd. Flat. A little spaced-out. Like she wasn’t quite with it.’
    ‘Are you suggesting she was under the influence of alcohol, or drugs?’
    ‘No. Mariana isn’t a heavy drinker. And I’ve never known her to take drugs.’
    ‘I see. So how did the conversation end?’
    ‘She just hung up on me.’
    ‘You didn’t try to call her back?’
    ‘No, there didn’t seem any point. I was going to be home soon enough. If there was any problem, I thought I’d sort it out then.’
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Khan give a rueful shake of the head, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’
    ‘What sort of problem did you think there might be?’ asked Yeats.
    ‘How can he answer that?’ Khan interrupted. ‘It’s pure conjecture.’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said, ignoring her. ‘I suppose I thought they might have had a row or something.’
    Yeats said, ‘Did they do that often, have rows?’
    ‘No, they always got on fine.’
    ‘So why would they start arguing now?’
    ‘I can’t think of a reason. It was just a possible explanation for her to sound the way she did.’
    ‘Flat … spacey?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And now what do you think?’
    ‘My client will not answer that question,’ said Khan, as much to me as to Yeats.
    The Chief Inspector changed the subject: ‘So your relationship with your wife, how’s that been lately?’
    ‘Again, irrelevant,’ said Khan.
    ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Yeats insisted.
    ‘My marriage has been fine, thank you very much.’ I said. I wanted it on the record, for all the world to know.
    ‘There’s no one else involved?’
    ‘No! My wife is the love of my life, Chief Inspector. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Why the hell would I want anyone else?’
    ‘Plenty of men cheat on beautiful wives.’
    ‘Not this one.’
    ‘Has she cheated on you?’
    ‘No, I’m sure she hasn’t. Why can’t you just believe me? We were happy.’
    ‘I’m not trying to cast aspersions on your married life, Mr Crookham. I’m trying to work out why your wife would lash out with a knife and repeatedly stab your brother in a frenzied attack that led to his death. And one reason why a woman attacks a man is sex. Maybe she was defending herself. Is it possible your brother might have tried to force himself upon her?’
    ‘What, so my wife is an adulterous murderer and my brother is a failed rapist? Has it occurred to you that they might both be victims? Why aren’t you looking for someone else, an intruder? Criminals break into people’s houses all the time and if there’s anyone there they kill them. Or it could be some kind of loony, a schizophrenic or something. Anyone could have done it. But all you want to talk about is my family.’
    ‘That’s because one of your family’s lying dead in the mortuary and the