‘Yeah. Claire; she left him a couple of months back. Took the kids.’

‘How old are his kids?’

‘Nine and seven.’

‘I’ve read in the press she’s been diagnosed with cancer?’ said Moss.

‘She got the diagnosis a month after she left him. He told her to come back, tried to patch it up, but she refused. The press didn’t report that bit; they prefer to paint him as the villain, saying that he cheated on her while she was sick. Claire’s been staying with her mum by the sea in Whitstable.’

‘Have you ever been romantically involved with Jack?’ asked Erika.

‘We shagged a couple of times when we were students. I’m married now, and Jack was like a brother to me.’ Danuta’s cigarette had burned right down. Erika pushed a plastic cup into the centre of the table for them to use as an ashtray.

‘How did you get in the house? You said you climbed?’ asked Moss.

‘Yes. I climbed up to the bedroom window at the back.’

‘Is that something you’d normally do?’

‘No. Well, only once before, when he slept in on a live show day, and to be fair that was the day after he’d done the Text Santa twenty-four-hour charity broadcast. He was dead to the world… I mean, he was asleep. I climbed up and banged on the window until he woke up.’

‘And today, you broke the window?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why? Did you think he was still alive?’

‘No… Yes… I don’t know. He had a bag over his head. I thought I might be able to save him. There’s a small stone ashtray on the roof. Jack used to go out there for a smoke. I used that to break the glass. And then when I got inside, I saw he was past help…’

‘Did you think he was trying to kill himself?’

‘No.’

‘What did you think it was, then?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Was Jack heterosexual?’ asked Moss.

‘Course he was bloody heterosexual! And he wasn’t a homophobe. We’ve got gay guys working on the show who he gets on with. Got on with.’

‘Was he a big drinker, drug taker?’

Danuta looked out of the small van window over to the house where crime scene officers were filing in and out.

‘We’re asking this in confidence. It will help our investigation,’ said Erika.

‘He liked a smoke…’

‘Marijuana?’

Danuta nodded. ‘And he dropped E once, years ago when we made a documentary at Burning Man – but we all did. He liked to go out on the lash, but I wouldn’t say he had a problem with drink, or drugs.’

‘Okay.’

‘Does he own the house?’ asked Moss.

‘Yes.’

‘Is there anything else you can think of?’

‘Be gentle when you tell his wife, okay? She’s been through a lot.’

Erika nodded. They watched through the window as a black body bag emerged from the house on a stretcher and was carried over to an ambulance. From far up the street, the crowds had swollen even more. Camera flashes went off like tiny bright pinpricks.

There was a knock on the open door of the van, and Crane popped his head around the door.

‘All right, boss, can I have a word?’

‘Thank you, Danuta. We’ll arrange you a lift home,’ said Erika. Danuta nodded weakly. Erika and Moss excused themselves and came out of the van.

‘There’s a neighbour wants to talk to you. She says someone broke in to her house last night and stole some baby clothes,’ said Crane.

‘How can she be sure?’ asked Erika.

‘There were stolen off her baby.’

34

‘And nothing else was taken?’ asked Erika, moving towards a pair of windows in the nursery. The room was on the ground floor, looking out over a yellowing lawn with overgrown flowerbeds. The sun streamed through, casting two bright squares on a new beige carpet. The walls were freshly painted in white, with a border of marching multicoloured elephants.

‘No. Nothing…’ said the young woman, who lived two doors along from Jack Hart’s house. She looked pale and exhausted, and clutched her tiny dark-haired daughter close to her chest. They both had short, thick dark hair and large brown eyes.

Moss moved from the freestanding wooden crib in the centre of the room to a tall wooden set of drawers on the left-hand wall. On top were a changing pad, a large bottle of lotion and a baby monitor.

‘Was this monitor on at the time?’ asked Moss.