I nodded, and she returned to her story. I wondered how exactly I could get the information I needed. It seemed to me that a lot of the details in Neil’s copy were only generally known at the manor much later than he’d transmitted them. I needed to know who’d given him that information, for as far as I was aware, it was known only to me, Jett and the killer. If Jett had told him, there was no problem. If it had come from anyone else, then I’d have my killer. Unless, of course, Jett was the killer. God, this was all so complicated. I yearned for a nice, clear set of fraudulent accounts.

Alexis hit a key with a flourish and swivelled her chair to face me. “All done. Want a look?”

I read the copy. It was good. It made Mortensen and Brannigan look efficient and subtle, as opposed to the police, who came out smelling of the stuff you put on roses. I pointed out a couple of minor corrections, to keep Alexis on her toes. Muttering about “nit pickers anonymous,” she made the changes.

As I got to my feet, she said, “When you’ve got anything to report on Moira’s murder, give us a tip-off, eh? And if you’re going to point the finger and get the cops to make an arrest, my edition time’s ten a.m.”

I was still smiling when I parked outside the office ten minutes later. I was first in, by five minutes. Shelley looked shocked to find me at my desk when she walked in at five to nine. I winked and said, “We never sleep.”

“I can tell,” she replied. “Next time you kindly grant me a holiday, remind me to borrow those bags under your eyes.”

I was desperate to get back to the manor and ask more questions, but I knew it would be too early for the night owls. Instead, I decided to ring DI Tony Redfern to ask what they’d found in the Smarts’ lock-up.

Tony sounded almost relieved that someone wanted to talk to him about anything other than the fatal car chase, so he gave me all the details I needed to write my report. I’d only just put the phone down on him when Shelley buzzed me. “I’ve got Inspector Jackson on the line for you,” she said. “He sounds like he’s just been stung by a wasp.”

“Thanks for the warning. Put him through, would you?” My heart sank. The events of the morning had put my appointment with Jackson right out of my mind. Besides, I couldn’t imagine what more he thought he could get out of me than he’d done the previous afternoon.

“Good morning, Inspector,” I greeted him.

“Why am I speaking to you over the phone instead of face to face?” he demanded.