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‘And there was something else about the drawing of the straws that didn’t add up. Phyllis Moore told me that you were the one who held them – no surprises there – but she added that they were behind your back “so there could be no cheating”. But that makes no sense at all. It’s exactly the reason why you hold them in front of you, so everyone can see. If they’re behind your back, it’s easy to conceal the shortest straw in the waistband of your trousers or somewhere and force it on the person you’ve chosen by leaving them until last. That person was Roderick Browne. All along, you’d decided that he was going to be your patsy. But then, like every opponent you’ve ever come across, you had him psychologically pinned down like a butterfly. He was perfect for what you wanted.

‘He and his wife, Felicity, had been the most vocal opponents of Giles Kenworthy – along with Dr Beresford, of course. The death of his patient, Raymond Shaw, was a bonus . . . I doubt even a chess grandmaster could arrange a heart attack, so we’ll put that one down to real coincidence. Tom Beresford was onside anyway. Roderick Browne was the actual target. He and Felicity were hopping mad about the pool. For them it was almost a matter of life and death. And they had the murder weapon, right where they needed it. Everything was set up.

‘My guess is that you’d taken the crossbow before the trick with the drinking straws. That was always your method. Ten moves ahead. You knew that the Kenworthy kids would be boarding. You probably even knew about Lynda Kenworthy and her French teacher. You slipped round to the house when Giles Kenworthy was on his own, shot him and generously left the crossbow complete with Roderick Browne’s fingerprints, even making sure it was pointing at the right house for the police to find. As for that chess game you told us about, the one you were playing online with your Polish friend and which provided your alibi – my guess is that you were doing it on your phone at the same time. Talk about multitasking!

‘What’s the end result of all this? You’ve created the perfect conspiracy. What was a joke, a drunken game of “let’s pretend”, has suddenly become a reality. Roderick Browne has told everyone he’s going to kill Giles Kenworthy and he’s even been generous enough to name the murder weapon. How you must have laughed! Because the following morning, Kenworthy is found with a bolt in his throat and of course everybody assumes that Roderick went through with it, that it must have been him.

‘At the same time, they’re terrified. Like it or not, they were all part of it. Andrew Pennington is quick to warn them. It’s a classic “conspiracy to commit murder” and Roderick won’t be the only one to go down. They all will! Nice, respectable people: a doctor, his posh jewellery-designer wife, a retired barrister, two old ladies . . . they were all there. Before the police even arrive, they’ve all taken a vow of omertà. Nobody can say anything that might incriminate them. Don’t mention the second meeting! Everyone has to lie. What was the first thing Roderick said to me when I met him? “Has anyone said anything?” He was terrified that one of his neighbours would land him in it.

‘And things only got worse for Roderick. You talked to him once on Tuesday, Detective Superintendent, and then on Wednesday, after he’d taken his wife to Woking, you pulled him into Shepherd’s Bush. By the end of a heavy session, he was convinced he was going to be arrested and charged – and that was why he ended up writing that letter. Read it again! It’s not a confession! All he meant was the public humiliation of being taken away in handcuffs. “We will see each other again on the other side.” Did you think he was talking about the Pearly Gates? He meant the other side of the arrest, the trial, or even the prison sentence. But once the letter was sitting on his lap and he had a bag over his head and a tank of nitrous oxide, it wasn’t surprising that you should think otherwise.’

‘So he killed himself because he was afraid of going to jail,’ Goodwin said.

‘You haven’t been listening, love. Adam Strauss killed Roderick Browne just like he’d always planned.’

‘This is all lies,’ Teri hissed.

Adam Strauss squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll have our chance to respond,’ he said, speaking quietly.

‘I examined that garage,’ Khan said. ‘It was impossible to get in or out. Are you going to explain that?’

‘Of course. But let’s start with the set-up. Strauss deliberately made it look like suicide. In fact, it screamed suicide. You’re right! Two locked doors. A skylight securely fastened. The only set of car keys in his trouser pocket. Suicide note in his lap. Nobody in their right mind goes to so much trouble unless they really, really want you to accept the obvious. And surely by now you understand that, all along, Strauss was playing with your mind. He even left the supposed reason for the suicide sitting there for you to find. There’s no reason on earth why Roderick Browne would have slipped the cut-off piece of drinking straw in his top pocket. He didn’t mention it in his letter. Right to the end, he was protecting his neighbours. No. Strauss put a new straw in there. And if Detective Superintendent Khan had stuck with the idea that Roderick was taking cocaine – as he suggested – I’m sure Strauss would have found a way to drop another clue to lead us all back to the second meeting, which was what he wanted all along.

‘We know that Strauss was the last person to see Roderick Browne alive and that Browne invited him over. Strauss knew that Andrew Pennington played bridge every Wednesday evening, so it’s easy enough to time everything for the exact moment Pennington gets home. And what does Pennington see? Strauss says goodbye to Browne, who replies, “You’ve been very kind . . .” Words to that effect. The door closes and the light goes off. The time of death is two hours away. So, at this moment, Browne is very much alive.

‘That’s what we’re meant to think. But Strauss has been with Browne, by his own admission, for at least an hour and a half. What really happened was that he slipped a whole lot of sleeping pills into Browne’s whisky. One little mistake there. He couldn’t get hold of Felicity’s temazepam, so he used pills he must have stolen from Dr Beresford . . . which were the next best thing. Always good to point suspicion in the wrong direction. When he leaves at ten o’clock, Browne is already unconscious. How to fake the conversation on the doorstep? Easy with an iPhone and a portable speaker. Dudley here has been recording every conversation I’ve had, including this one! That’s what Pennington hears.

‘As for the lights, he said something very interesting to me. “The front door closed, the light went out and Adam walked away.” But that’s strange for all sorts of reasons. Firstly, Roderick clearly wasn’t going to bed. More to the point, think about what he said. A single light going off. The light switch by the door turns off the lights in the hallway, the stairs and the first landing. If Roderick had flicked the switch by the door, that’s what Pennington would have seen. But if it was a single light, Roderick would have had to close the door and then cross the hallway to turn off the antique lamp on the chest of drawers.’

‘So are you saying that it was Strauss who turned it off?’ Goodwin asked. She was finally entertaining the possibility that some sort of trick had been involved.

‘Exactly.’

‘How?’ Khan demanded.

‘Easy. He could have used a piece of string and pulled the plug out of the wall. But there were all sorts of electrical bits and pieces that suddenly turned up inside the garage and I think what he used was a cheap remote control he’d brought with him. In reality, Roderick Browne is sound asleep in the kitchen because of the zolpidem. Strauss plays the recording. He closes the door. He turns off the lights with the remote control, which he dumps in the garage later. No point risking the police finding it in his home. Anyway, that’s the illusion. Roderick Browne is alive and all is well. Except it isn’t.