“No. You told me not to, remember?”

“And you always do what you’re told? Spare me, Miss Brannigan.”

I pushed myself away from the desk. “I don’t know where this is getting us, Inspector, but I’ve got more important things to do with my time than sit here being insulted. If you’ve got some genuine questions to put to me, fine, we’ll talk. But if you’re just going over old ground, and trying to get me to change my testimony to incriminate my client, then you’re wasting your time as well as mine.” I was halfway to the door as I finished. But Jackson was faster than me.

He blocked the doors, standing with his back to them. “Not so fast,” he began. Then he stumbled forward, nearly cannoning into me as someone pushed the door behind him.

Kevin looked furious as he stomped into his office. “What the hell is going on here?” he started. “What is this? Why’s everybody playing cops and robbers in my office?”

“I was just leaving,” I said haughtily, skirting the pair of them. “I’ll catch up with you another time, Kevin,” I threw over my shoulder as I pulled the door shut firmly behind me. Time to do some work on my timetables.

Chapter   24

I found Jett in his private sitting room, on the opposite side of the house to Kevin’s suite. I walked in through the open door, then paused till he noticed me. He was sitting on a tall stool by the window, picking out fragments of old melodies on a twelve string Yamaha. After a few minutes, he turned his head towards me and nodded. He reached the end of a phrase of “Crying In The Sun,” one of their collaborations from the second album, then stood up abruptly. “Kate,” he said softly. It was impossible to see the expression on his face, silhouetted against the light as he was.

I sat down on a chaise longue and said, “How’re you doing?”

Jett carefully leaned the guitar against the wall then folded himself into the lotus position on the floor a few feet away from me. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever known,” he replied, his voice curiously lacking in its usual resonance. “It’s like losing half of myself. The better half. I’ve tried everything I know—meditation, self-hypnosis, booze. Even sex. But nothing makes it go away. I keep getting flashbacks of her lying there like that.”

I didn’t have anything useful to say. Bereavement isn’t something I’ve had a lot to do with. We sat in silence for a few moments, then Jett said, “Do you know who killed her yet?”