Lindsay shrugged, then glanced at the bedside clock. “I don’t know the answer to that. But I know a woman who might. And with a bit of luck, I might just catch her.”

Sophie looked around the café with a critical eye. “A bit gloomy, isn’t it? You’d think she’d be glad of the chance to get a bit of sunshine on her day off.” Judging by the absence of other lunchtime patrons, everyone else was doing just that.

Lindsay shook her head. “She doesn’t want to risk being seen with me. Even on a Saturday. Lauren has the same relationship to Monarch as a flea has to a cat, which means she doesn’t want to risk losing her meal ticket, though she’s not averse to a nibble elsewhere as long as the price is right.”

“One look at you and she might think twice about opening her mouth,” Sophie commented, gesturing at her own cheek to illustrate her point.

Another night had spread Lindsay’s bruises up and across her face to engulf her eye as well as her cheek and jaw. Time had rendered them more lurid shades of blue, with green and yellow making an appearance round the edges. The scabs covering her grazes had darkened, looking like mud that had been flicked over her skin and allowed to dry there. Under Sophie’s gentle bathing, the dried blood had been cleaned from the long hairline cut along her jaw, leaving it looking far less serious than it had done the day before. The pain had subsided to a gentle throb, the ache dulled by the paracetamol Lindsay was still swallowing at four-hourly intervals. “I’ll just have to tell her the truth,” she said wryly.

“Let’s hope she shows up,” Sophie said.

“Yeah. Before the cops decide they’ve got enough circumstantial evidence to charge Meredith,” Lindsay said glumly. “They’re not going to wait for ever, and they obviously think they know who did it. Which means nobody except us is looking for the real killer. Who thinks he’s got away with it.” As she spoke, she saw Lauren walk in, and waved at the receptionist. “Over here,” she called.

Lauren walked towards them. When she saw Lindsay’s face, her double take was almost comical. Her face fell like a failed soufflé and her step faltered. Cautiously, she approached. “What the fuck happened to you?” she said wonderingly. “You look like you just went ten rounds with Freddy Kruger. I don’t think I wanna be here.” She took a step backwards.

“I had an accident,” Lindsay said hastily. “It’s the truth. I took a header over a wall I didn’t know was there and landed on top of a broken bottle. Nobody’s had a go at me.”