Meredith’s words snagged Lindsay’s memory. She’d completely forgotten about Penny’s missing computer. Clearly, investigating murder and jet lag didn’t go together. “Speaking of computer files, do you know where Penny’s laptop is?”

“Her laptop? Isn’t it in the flat?”

“No. The power lead is still plugged into the wall, but there’s no computer. Do you happen to know if the police took it?”

Meredith shook her head. “They haven’t got it. I know because I got my solicitor to ask if they had taken anything of Penny’s from the flat. I wanted to know if they had the answering-machine tape, right? And it turns out that all they took away was the answering-machine tape.” Meredith’s expression was wry.

“This is weird. Not only is the computer itself missing, but there isn’t a single floppy in the place, not even a box of blanks. And there isn’t a single copy of the manuscript lying around either. What was in Heart of Glass that’s so dynamite?”

“You think someone killed her to prevent the book being finished?” Meredith’s tone reflected Lindsay’s own incredulity that a novel could provoke such passion.

“I know it’s bizarre, but it’s looking a lot like it. The only way we’re going to know for sure is if we can track down a copy, and I haven’t the first clue how we’re going to do that.”

They sat in silence until Meredith reached the end of her cigarette. “She was always paranoid about back-ups. She always backed up on to floppies at the end of the working day. She kept one set in the house and another tucked into the back of her personal organizer. And the third set she took down to Half Moon Bay once a week,” she said slowly.

“What? She never left them with us.”

Meredith shook her head. “I know. She used to drop them off with her best friend from high school, Carolyn Coogan. She and her husband, John, both teach math up in Pacifica. They live on the other side of the highway from you, about a mile south. She’d drive down one evening a week, or sometimes in the small hours of the morning. If she was late, she’d leave them in the mailbox.”

“Couldn’t she just have posted them?”

“By US Mail? Puh-lease! Penny wouldn’t trust her disks to them, but she wanted a set somewhere they’d be safe if the house burned down, and where she could have easy access to them if it became necessary. So she’d bring them down herself.”