“No reply,” she said for the twenty-second time. Concentrating on counting her replies made it easier to ignore the questions. She just kept saying the two words whenever there was a pause in the drone of the coppers’ voices. In between the gaps, she simply kept reciting the numbers in her head.

The rhythm changed only when Jennifer Okido interrupted occasionally to protest that they were badgering her client, who was exercising her right to keep her own counsel.

It took an hour for the police officers to give up in frustration. The stocky detective sergeant pushed his chair back with a jerk that made its legs squeal on the vinyl floor tiles. He leaned over the tape recorder and said “Interview terminated at 8.10 a.m.”

“Can I go now?” Lindsay asked, her voice shaky with exhaustion.

“No,” the detective sergeant said.

“You’ll have to stay here till we can establish your alibi,” Jennifer said, leaning close. Lindsay smelled a light, citrus perfume and almost giggled at the incongruity.

Back in the cell, Lindsay stretched out on the hard bunk, pulling the blanket over her. There was nothing that wouldn’t look better after a good sleep.

It took Jennifer Okido less than ten minutes at the AMWU conference center to realize Lindsay hadn’t been exaggerating about the impact of Conference Chronicle on the hundreds of delegates. In the foyer of the hall itself, it seemed there were copies at the heart of every babbling huddle as the union representatives discussed the death of their general secretary and the implication that Lindsay had had more than a hand in it.

As she pushed her way through the throng, Jennifer heard snatches of conversation.

“. . . dark secrets. The way things are being revealed in Conference Chronicle, he could have jumped rather than face the music . . .”

“Maybe he made a pass at her and she decked him, only the deck was further away than she thought . . .”

“Come on, even Tom Jack wouldn’t top himself just to drop Lindsay Gordon in the shit . . .”

“It’s going to be another mystery like Maxwell and the yacht . . .”

“He’ll have been pissed out of his head. He could easily have fallen . . .”

Everyone had their own theory, and the volume increased by the second as everyone tried to make theirs the one that was heard above the others. Jennifer made it to the door of the conference hall, where the clerical staff were under siege as they tried to hand out order-papers for the morning’s business.