Lindsay stopped at the first callbox she came to and rang Claire’s office. She had a momentary pang of apprehension as she waited to be connected. Would Cordelia have said anything about her visit yesterday? “Can I see you this morning?” she asked when she was finally put through to Claire.

“I can fit you in for ten minutes in half an hour. Otherwise it will be this evening,” Claire said briskly. “I’m sorry about yesterday, by the way. Cordelia said you’d had a wasted journey.”

“No problem. See you in half an hour.” Lindsay hung up.

Thirty minutes later, she was walking into Claire’s comfortable office high above the city skyline. The lawyer was seated behind a wide and uncluttered desk, looking utterly in command of her situation. A desk lamp was switched on, making her white-blonde hair gleam ethereally. She reminded Lindsay strangely of a modern version of Joan of Arc, with her small, chiseled features. She’d look stunning in a suit of shining armor astride a white horse, she thought in surprise. “You seem to like having a view,” Lindsay remarked as she settled into a tweed-upholstered sofa.

“It prevents claustrophobia,” Claire remarked absently, signing a piece of paper on her desk. She put her pen down and gave Lindsay her full attention. Her face looked calm and untroubled. Whatever Cordelia had told her about Lindsay’s visit, it obviously hadn’t been the truth. “Now, where are you up to?” she asked tartly.

Lindsay gave Claire a swift rundown on her progress so far, while Claire jotted notes on a legal pad. Lindsay concluded by saying, “And tonight, Ruth and Antonis are coming to dinner. All I need is one shred of evidence, and this whole thing could be wrapped up by the end of the weekend. But how about you? How did you get on with Alistair?”

“It seems you’ll have to remove him from your list of possible suspects,” Claire said, pushing her glasses up her nose in the familiar gesture. “On the day Alison was killed, he was in Aberdeen. Between four and five o’clock, he was giving a lecture at the art college, and afterward he was discussing the lecture with several of the students. He learned about Alison’s murder later that evening when he saw the television news in his hotel room. I’ve already checked his story, and it seems he was telling the truth.”

“In a funny way, I’m glad about that. I’ve always liked his paintings. They’re so full of life and color,” Lindsay said.

“If that’s all, Lindsay . . . I have another appointment in a minute,” Claire said, ostentatiously consulting her watch.