I sat in the car and stared at the T-shirt. I wasn’t quite sure what it amounted to. If Kevin was responsible for official merchandising, there was no reason why he shouldn’t farm it out to Fat Freddy, even if some of the guy’s other business was well on the wrong side of the legal borderline. What I needed to find out was whether this particular T-shirt was the real thing.

I also owed Maggie the courtesy of letting her know I didn’t need her to do my legwork any longer. I thought of phoning, but decided against it. Face to face, there was always a chance that she’d come across with some more information, and her house was only a twenty-minute drive away.

The house looked much the same, except that a sheaf of cream and red tulips had suddenly bloomed by the front door. For some reason, it made me think of Moira, something I’d been determinedly avoiding. I didn’t think I could get through this job if I allowed myself to dwell on my own anger and the guilty fear that I’d delivered her to her killer. The vivid memory of her singing “Private Dancer” filled my head. The grip of her voice on my mind didn’t make it any easier to walk up the path to face her lover.

I rang the bell and waited. Then I knocked and waited. Then I peered through the letter box. No lights, no sign of life. I thought about writing a note and decided to try the neighbors instead. Next door there was someone home. I could hear the operatic screeching five feet from the door. I had no confidence that whoever was inside would hear the doorbell above the earsplitting soprano that was going through my head like cheesewire.

Abruptly the music stopped, though the ringing in my ears continued. The door opened to reveal the twinkling blue eyes of

“Hi,” I said. “It’s Gavin, isn’t it?” I amaze myself sometimes.

He nodded, and the frown deepened into a scowl. “You’re the private eye,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Obviously the jungle drums had been busy after my first visit.

There didn’t seem a lot of point in getting into a debate about it. “That’s right. I’m looking for Maggie. I just wondered if you happened to know when she’ll be back.”

“You’re too late,” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“The cops took her off about two hours ago. They let her come round and tell me, so I could feed the cat if she’s not back. But the policewoman who was with her didn’t make any reassuring noises about her getting home in a hurry. Looks like your friends in the cops have gone for the easy option,” Gavin said angrily.