'You've got to tell Mark.'

'No. It's none of his fucking business.'

'You've got to, Simon.'

'No fucking way. I'll be crucified.'

'You have no choice.'

'Yes, I have. And I've made it. He's got Jennings. He's the killer. They don't need to know about me and my sordid little affair.'

'You've got to tell the truth.'

'No. It'll ruin me. Is that what you want?' He stared at her angrily.

'Why will it ruin you? All you've done is withhold information. As you say, it doesn't affect the investigation. We know who the killer is. If you explain about wanting to protect your marriage, maybe they'll understand.'

He shook his head vigorously and started to pace up and down the room, hands in his pockets. 'Maybe it won't be a disciplinary matter, but I'll be off the murder squad. Who'll want me then? Tell me that? Do you really see me back in uniform behind a desk? I don't think so.'

'Whatever happens, it's what you've got to do.'

'No.'

'I'll take you to see Mark now. After what you've drunk, you're not fit to drive.'

He glared at her. 'Why? Why must I?'

'You don't need me to explain. You bloody well know why. And if you don't want to talk to him, you should go and see Carolyn Steele. You've got to come clean.'

He shook his head. 'No. I tell you, I'm not going.'

'If you're innocent, if you had nothing to do with Rachel Tenison's murder, that's what you'll do.'

'No. It's too late for that. Thanks for your hospitality and stuff. You'd probably like to see the back of me, so I'll be off now. I need another drink.'

Before she could stop him, he turned on his heel and walked out into the corridor. She ran after him, catching hold of him as he paused to open the front door. She grabbed his arm but he shrugged her away as though she were nothing more than an irritating fly. He yanked open the door and marched outside and down the path.

'Simon, stop. Please come back.'

He was already at the gate. As she ran up to him, he banged the gate shut in front of her, holding it closed so she couldn't pass.

'I'd do anything for you, Sam. But not this.'

She folded her arms about herself, shivering. 'You know it's wrong. You know it.'

'Maybe. But it's what I want to do.'

'I can't believe this! You're putting me in a terrible position.'

'Can't help that, Sam. I told you, I'm very fond of you and I'm really grateful for all you've done. But I'm on my own with this. That's how it's got to be.'

Before she could reply, he leaned over the gate and kissed her full on the mouth.

'Thank you for everything.' Then he turned and strode off down the street.

'If I don't hear from you in half an hour, I'm calling Mark,' she shouted after him. 'Half an hour. Do you hear me?'

She thought she saw him shrug but he kept on going and he didn't look back.

When he disappeared around the corner, Donovan reluctantly went back inside and closed the front door. Her arms and legs felt like jelly and she needed to sit down. She also needed a drink. With Simon Turner's words streaming through her mind, still not sure what to believe, she went into the sitting room.

Her half-drunk glass of red wine was still sitting on the coffee table, but she didn't feel like it any longer. She needed something stronger. She went over to the small drinks tray on top of the cupboard in the corner and studied the array of odd-shaped bottles full of garishly coloured substances. Most of them had been picked up on a whim by Claire when on holiday. None of them were appetising, unless you were desperate or actually liked things very sweet and syrupy, which she didn't. The only other option was the bottle of whisky that Turner had brought when he came to dinner, which still, surprisingly, had several inches left. She wasn't that fond of whisky, but it was better than nothing.

Wondering how long she should give him before calling Tartaglia, she fetched a large tumbler full of ice from the kitchen and poured herself a generous measure. As she raised the glass to her lips, inhaling the pungent, peaty smell, she heard the sound of the doorbell.

Thank God he had had the sense to come back, although she suddenly felt wary of seeing him again. She put down her glass and went to open it, but it wasn't Simon Turner on the doorstep.

34.

Nina stood framed in the doorway, the overhead light casting a shadow on her face.

'Nina.'

'Yes. May I come in? I think we need to talk.'

She was still dressed in her work clothes, and with her long hair pulled tightly back in a ponytail she looked tense and strangely pale, her dark eyes deep smudges in her face. Something was wrong.

'I was about to go to bed,' Donovan replied, failing to mask her surprise. 'What do you want?'

'I need to talk to you about Simon.'

'Simon?' She studied the taut, hard lines of Nina's face, wondering what was the matter. 'Can't we do this another time? I'm really tired.'

'No, Sam. It can't wait. Please may I come in?'

Now curious to know why Nina should want to talk to her so urgently, Donovan stepped aside to let her pass and followed her into the sitting room.

'His favourite brand, I see,' Nina said sharply, as she put her handbag down on the coffee table next to Turner's bottle of whisky.

Donovan folded her arms, hoping this wasn't going to take long. 'What do you want to talk about?'

'How much has he told you?'

'About what?'

'About us. About our marriage.'

'Not a great deal,' she said surprised, not knowing what to say or what answer Nina was expecting.

Nina nodded. 'That's typical. It's why I came here. I thought maybe you didn't know what was going on. Did he tell you I'm moving back in?'

Donovan put her hands on her hips and sighed. 'Look, I don't understand why you want to talk to me about this. It's between you and him and it's none of my business.'

Nina flushed and took a deep breath, as though making a great effort. 'Please don't lie, Sam. I saw the two of you together just now. And he was over here the other evening. I know what's going on.'

Donovan shook her head wearily. So that's what it was all about. Nina was jealous. But how on earth did she know where Turner had been? They were supposed to be living apart. Maybe he had said something, not realising how it would be misinterpreted.

'Nothing's going on,' she said calmly. 'You really don't have to worry.'

'I thought you'd say that. Do you mind if I sit down? I've been on my feet all day.'

'I don't think you should be here.'

'I haven't finished,' Nina said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and smoothing down her skirt. 'You know, it's funny,' she added, pointing an accusatory finger. 'You're the last person I'd expect him to chase after.'

'Look. I can see you're upset, but he's not chasing after me. He was here to do with work.'

'He arrived with a bottle of champagne and I saw him kiss you just now. And don't try and tell me it was a friendly peck on the cheek because I saw, and I saw the look in his eyes.'

Donovan felt the colour rise to her cheeks. 'You're wrong, I promise you. It doesn't mean anything.'

'Maybe not to you, but how do you think I feel? I'm married to him.' Nina's voice was a shrill whine and Donovan caught the look of bitterness in her eyes.

'What were you doing here? Were you spying on him?'

'I need to know what he's up to. I want to move back in with him and give it another go, but if he's carrying on with you, there's not much point.' She studied her long red nails for a moment, then looked back at Donovan. 'You're a decent person, Sam. I've always liked you. I came here to ask you to give him up.'

There were tears in her eyes and Donovan felt for her. It must have taken a great deal of courage to swallow her pride and come. 'He's not mine to give up. But if you feel that way about him, why did you leave him in the first place? I hear you had someone else.'

Nina looked at her amazed. 'Me? No. Is that what Simon's been saying?' She shook her head as though she couldn't believe it. 'You know, he'll say anything to get what he wants. Sometimes I don't think he even knows what the truth is. He's the one who abandoned me.'

'But you left.'

'Yes, but ask yourself why. After I lost our baby, I've never felt more alone. He was hardly ever home. I barely saw him from day to day. Of course, there were the usual excuses about work and stuff. But he preferred to be in the pub with his mates than come home to me. It was as though he didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore.'

Donovan couldn't imagine Turner being so callous. He was impulsive, unthinking maybe, but not cruel. She remembered what he had said about Nina's depression, about everything spiralling out of control, about his feeling shut out. There were always two sides to a story. As she looked at Nina, with her staring dark eyes and tense, thin-lipped mouth, hands clasped tightly in her lap, she had the impression of someone on the edge, about to break.

'I'm sorry, I-'

'I don't need your sympathy,' Nina cut in sharply. 'I'm telling you because you should know what he's like.'

'Really, Nina. This isn't doing either of us any good. Please will you go.' She walked over to the door and held it open, but Nina didn't move.

'Don't you want to hear why I moved out?' Holding Donovan's gaze, she gave a feeble smile. 'He was having an affair. I knew the signs, you see. I'd been through this before with someone else. When I saw Simon, when he bothered to come home that is, his mind was elsewhere. He was obsessed with her. Sometimes I could smell her perfume on him and once I found strands of her hair twisted around one of his buttons. He was so careless, almost as though he wanted me to find out. It was like I wasn't there anymore, like I was invisible. That's why I decided to leave. It was the only thing I could think of to make him come to his senses.'

Donovan shook her head sadly, thinking of the two of them and what Turner had said earlier about Rachel Tenison. 'I still love her, stupid fool that I am. Bloody fool for love.' What a horrible situation. Her heart went out to Nina, although she was clearly misguided. There was nothing that would make Turner come to his senses in the way she wanted. He was lost to her.

'You shouldn't be telling me this,' she said quietly, feeling like an intruder, caught in the middle.

'Maybe, but I love him very much. I'm prepared to forgive him and I want him back. So I'm asking you, please leave him alone. He doesn't mean anything to you. You can find someone else.'

'I'm really not in your way, Nina. Honestly.'

'But it has to be you. I know he hasn't been seeing anyone else. The other woman's out of the picture now but he's saying he wants a divorce.'

'So you know about Rachel Tenison. You knew who she was, about his relationship with her. Did he tell you?' She studied Nina's dark eyes for a reaction.

Nina gave a bitter laugh. 'He didn't tell me, but yes, I knew. Rachel. Rachel. He used to say her name over and over again in his sleep. It wasn't hard to find out where he went and who he was seeing. But it wasn't a real relationship. It was just sex. Simon's like that, like so many men. He never really cared about her.'

'For Christ's sake, you were the crime scene manager,' she said, picturing Nina walking towards her that morning through the snowy car park in Holland Park. She had seemed perfectly normal. 'Why the hell didn't you say something at the time?'

'I couldn't. It was Sunday. Tracy had just phoned in sick and I was the only other CSM on call. What was I supposed to do? Turn it down? Leave her lying there for all to see? It didn't influence the way I did my job.'

'You still should have said something. Someone else should have been called, however long it took.'

'And air my dirty washing in public? Have everyone laugh at me because my sodding husband can't keep his hands off other women?'

'Nobody would laugh at you,' Donovan replied, struck by the weirdness of the situation. 'But you dealt with her body in the park, you went all over her flat. You were there for days. How...'

'How did I cope?' Nina said with a toss of her head. 'How could I carry on with it all, imagining him there in the flat with her, the two of them in that great big bed of hers, doing stuff together with all those nasty, disgusting things in the trunk? Well, I just put it out of my mind and got on with my job. It didn't matter to me who she was. She was dead. No point worrying about her anymore.'

The way she described it was almost voyeuristic and Donovan felt sickened. 'Don't you care what happened to Rachel Tenison?'

'No. She deserved what she got. She tried to steal my husband. And if he killed her, I don't care.'

Donovan bit her lip, surprised, not sure if Nina was joking. 'You honestly think Simon killed her?'

'Yes,' Nina said quietly. 'Maybe it was an accident. As I said, I don't care.'

'But Simon has an alibi. He was with someone.'

'With you?'

'No.'

Nina shook her head wearily. 'He's lying again. He was with her. I know. I wanted to speak to him and I went back to the flat, but he was out as usual. I waited all night but he never came home. When I saw him the next day, he looked wrecked and he stank of booze. Of course he was with her.'

Donovan took a deep breath, her mind whizzing through everything that Turner had said earlier. She thought of him suddenly wanting to leave; he couldn't get out of the house fast enough and he had refused to talk to Tartaglia. Maybe she had been a fool to believe him, but Nina was wrong about one thing. Jonathan Bourne had been at Rachel Tenison's flat that night, not Turner. If Nina was telling the truth and Turner was out all night, where had he gone? He couldn't have been hanging around outside all that time. Even in a car, he would have frozen to death. He had to have stayed somewhere. She had believed him, believed the way he had described picking up the other woman in the bar and going home with her, even down to the smug, laddish grin that had accompanied 'We had a good time together'. It rang true.

Nina was watching her intently. She saw the sharp, knowing, spiteful look in Nina's eyes and frowned. 'I believe him,' she said firmly, still puzzling over the situation.