“’S all a bit blurry. I’m a bit pissed, you know,” Lindsay said confidentially. “Let me see. ’S not wearing shoes. ’S a leg. A leg going round the corner. The bottom bit of a leg. It’s not wearing clothes. Just a leg.”

Sophie checked that Lindsay’s mini-cassette recorder was still turning. “Keep looking at that frame. Now, is it a man’s leg or a woman’s?”

“Don’t know. Quite slim. Nice leg. Probably a woman, because I think it’s nice.” Lindsay giggled.

“What can you hear?”

“The lift shutting and going down.”

“What do you feel?”

“Sweaty and tired and drunk.”

“Can you smell anything?”

Lindsay sniffed loudly. Her face changed, and she frowned. “Perfume. Faint, but I know it. I know what it is.”

Sophie felt a thrill of excitement. This was completely new. “What is it, Lindsay?”

“Cartier. Le Must de Cartier.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Lindsay’s voice had grown hard and cold. She no longer sounded like an amiable drunk. “I bought it often enough. For Cordelia. Perfume for treacherous bitches. She wears it too.”

“Who wears it too, Lindsay?”

“Laura Craig, of course. ’Nother treacherous bitch.”

“Anybody else?”

“Nobody I know,” Lindsay said.

“I want you to carry on, frame by frame, until the moment when you open the door, then I want you to press stop. Okay?” Lindsay nodded. Sophie listened patiently for another five minutes, but there was nothing else of any significance in Lindsay’s story. Gently, Sophie brought Lindsay back into full consciousness.

Lindsay sat up, stretched and yawned hugely. “Oh God,” she sighed. “That was wonderful.” She yawned again. “I feel so-o-oh relaxed.” She rubbed her eyes and swung her feet on to the floor. “Well, I suppose it was worth a try. If nothing else, I’ve had a good rest.”

“I’m glad I’ve got my uses,” Sophie said drily. “Don’t you want to discuss what you came up with?”

Lindsay did a double take. “What I came up with? I don’t remember coming up with anything!”

Sophie smiled. “Oh yes you did.”

Lindsay looked suspicious. “You said I was in control. You said I’d be able to remember anything that happened under hypnosis.”

“You do, in the sense that what was in your subconscious is now part of your conscious mind. But you were very deeply under. You’ll have to think quite hard about what you came up with. Luckily, I was here to listen.”

“How do I know you’re not just making it up?”

“Because you’ll know what I’m talking about as soon as I remind you that what was niggling at the back of your mind wasn’t something you saw or heard. It was something you smelled. Le Must de Cartier.”