Two doors down the hall from Neil’s office, I found the dining room. It looked as if it got about as much use as Richard’s vacuum cleaner. I sat down on an antique balloon-backed chair and inserted a fresh tape in my recorder. I dictated a report of the case to date, explaining the reasons for my conclusion that Kevin was the killer. The problem was that I still lacked any substantial proof. I had no doubt that would be easy enough for the police to find once he was arrested. A serious probe into his finances would be one place to start. But I had to produce enough evidence to convince the police to take that first step.

It seemed to me there were two ways to approach it. One was to “persuade” Fat Freddy to co-operate. The other was to try to flush Kevin out into the open. That was risky, but the results would be much more damning than anything a Bradford villain might have to say.

I found Jett in his sitting room, talking music with Kevin and Micky, who both looked less than thrilled to see me again. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got something important to say,” I announced.

Jett jumped to his feet and crossed the room in a rush. He

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I said.

“Tell me,” he shouted, shaking me.

I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held on. “Jett, you’re hurting! Let me go!” I demanded.

His hands fell to his sides and he slumped into the nearest chair, drained. “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You gotta tell me, though.”

Micky lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “He’s right. If you know, he’s got a right to be told.”

“I haven’t got enough proof to start throwing accusations around yet,” I said. “But I know where to go to find it. By this time tomorrow, I should know for sure. When I do, Jett, you’ll know. What I want you to do is to get everyone together tomorrow at five. The blue drawing room’s as good a place as any. I’ll tell you everything I’ve learned then.”

“For God’s sake,” Kevin exploded. “This is ridiculous. I never heard of anything so bloody silly. What do you think this is? Some crappy detective novel? Showdown in the drawing room? Why the hell can’t you just tell Jett like you’re paid to do?”

“Shut up, Kevin,” Jett said forcefully. “I gave Kate a free hand. She’ll handle it. She knows what she’s doing.”