“No doubt about it. With what you’ve given them, plus the evidence in Tom Jack’s desk and his notebook, I’d say they’ve got a prima facie case. I’m told she’s denying it with the sort of vehemence that only the guilty ever seem capable of working up,” Jennifer said drily.

“I can’t say that’s a surprise,” Lindsay said. “Is she claiming an alibi?”

“Not so far, according to the police officer I had an off-the-record word with. Doubtless if there’s anything to dredge up on that score, my colleague Mr. Malone will make the most of it.” Jennifer stopped by her silver Audi. “Can I give you a lift?”

Lindsay jumped at the chance to get back to Sophie and their hotel room. Since Sophie had decided that Lindsay’s Lone Ranger days were long behind her and that it was time to fetch the sheriff and the posse, the two had had no chance to exchange more than a few words. Sophie’s own brief witness statement had been over before the murder squad had even started on Lindsay, who had urged her to return to the hotel and unwind.

As Jennifer approached the hotel entrance, Lindsay’s heart sank. If what she could see was anything to go by, Sophie’s chances of unwinding had been rather less than nil. “Oh shit,” she muttered. “Jennifer, could you keep driving, please.”

The solicitor kept her foot on the accelerator and glided smoothly round the car park and back into the road. “Problems?” she asked.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle normally. I just feel like I’ve had enough confrontation for one day,” Lindsay said wearily. “There was a guy standing just outside the front door, under the awning. I don’t suppose you noticed him, but he’s the Sunday Star’s chief reporter. He’s obviously the advance guard. The rest will be inside, staking the place out. Sophie’s probably ready to kill by now, and I can’t say I blame her.”

“What do you want to do?” Jennifer asked, pulling up a few hundred yards away from the entrance.

“In an ideal world, I’d like to get Sophie out of there so we can drive back to Glasgow and disappear for a few days with our friends till it’s time to go home,” Lindsay said.

“Let’s go for it, then,” Jennifer said calmly. She picked up her car phone and called Directory Enquiries for the hotel’s number. Then she keyed in the number and passed the phone to Lindsay.

“Sheffield Metro Towers Hotel, Kimberley speaking, how may I help you?”

“Room 603, please,” Lindsay said.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Kimberley’s artificially bright voice twittered.

“Lindsay Gordon.”