It's apparent, however, two minutes later when Deborah makes her appearance that it wasn't her who smuggled the crutch in. The tight jeans and skimpy pink top is so small that I doubt she would have been able to smuggle anything more than a peanut in, and it certainly didn't look as though Micheal died from a severe nut allergy.
"I'm sorry about earlier," she apologises to me as she takes her seat in front of us. "My mind was going haywire, I was panicking. You certainly seem like a very bright young woman to be working as a detective at your age."
"If your flattery is supposed to be a method to soften us up, it hasn't worked," I reply. I've dealt with people like her before. Those who think that they can worm out of accusation because they've complimented the detective.
"No, I'm just saying ..." but she gives up.
"Mr Howells has already told us of your feelings towards him," dad tells her.
"Oh," she blushes slightly. "Well -"
"Although it didn't take a lot to make the deduction," he continues. "I could see it the moment I set eyes on you. Tight top and jeans, desperate to say the least, some might say prostitutional, so it was clear you fancied someone. It was only a matter of who you had feelings for."
"Yes, fine!" she cries. "I don't see how that matters though."
"It gives you a motive," I say. "Not a very strong one, I must say. You felt upset that he didn't love you back - you had the perfect opportunity to get him sacked if you swapped the rubber crutch with the aluminium and then have him kill Matthews."
"That's ridiculous!"
"But not impossible," I finish. "So do you have anything more to say?"
"Um," she takes a breath, as if she's about to say something.
"Yes?"
"It's probably nothing," she says, "but last week, Micheal complained to me that William was being unprofessional - what with his drinking on stage and how he would often miss the padding on the jacket during the final scene. But of course, I didn't do anything about it." She stops for a moment before her eyes widen in realisation. "My God, it's all my fault! I should have fired William when Micheal first complained, then none of this would have happened!"
"Well it certainly didn't help," dad tells her. "But I don't think it would have made much difference."
"What do you mean?"
"Goodbye Miss Challis, and could you send Sarah Groenwegen in?" Trembling slightly, so as she wobbles slightly on her heels, she leaves the room.
"I think we can note her down as a suspect," I say. "Though she would have needed a way of bringing the crutch in."
"You think she had an accomplice?" I notice dad's giving me quite a loose rein on this case.
"Yeah," I say, "I think she did."