Claire’s words were like a slap in the face. Cordelia had obviously given Claire a highly sanitized version of their encounter, revealing only Lindsay’s suspicions. Claire had been playing with her all along. Furious, Lindsay got to her feet and marched to the door. “I’ll be in touch when I’ve got something to report,” she said angrily. “And don’t kid yourself that I’d cast suspicion on you for Cordelia’s sake. As far as I’m concerned, you’re more than welcome to her.” And as she strode through Claire’s outer office, Lindsay realized with a feeling of shock that she had meant exactly what she said.

15

“Can you talk, Ros?” Lindsay asked cautiously when she was finally put through to Rosalind’s office extension.

“Yes, I’m alone. Have you got any news?” she inquired eagerly.

“Progress at last. I think I know who our burglar is.”

“That’s terrific news! How on earth did you find out?” Rosalind asked, her voice full of admiration.

“Trade secret,” Lindsay replied modestly. “But I can tell you that the burglary appears to have been carried out by a rent boy called Alex McNaught. Does the name mean anything to you?”

“Can’t say it does. But if he’s one of Harry’s little friends, there’s no reason why it should. I never meet them. But if he knew his way around the building . . . Does this tie in with Alison’s murder, like you thought it might?”

“I can’t quite see how. Why do you ask?” Lindsay asked.

“It’s just that . . . It might be nothing, but she did a five-part series on AIDS for the Clarion last year. About how it’s spreading into the heterosexual community. Maybe she ran into him then?”

Lindsay’s thoughts were racing. Rosalind’s words seemed to confirm her hunch about a connection. Casting Harry as the “political hot potato” suddenly seemed far more credible. On impulse, she stalled Rosalind with, “Possibly. It’ll have to be checked out, though.”

“I agree. Do you know where to find this McNaught?” Rosalind demanded.

“I think so. But before I go any farther, I think I’d better speak to Harry. When is he coming up?” Lindsay asked.

“He’ll be here late tonight. He was supposed to be spending the weekend in Kinradie, but after this business, he canceled his Saturday morning surgery and he’s not going up till Sunday. Do you want to come round later on?”

Lindsay thought rapidly. With Ruth and Antonis coming for dinner, she really didn’t want to commit herself to anything more that evening. “Not tonight, Ros,” she said. “Sophie and I have got dinner guests. Business rather than pleasure, if you catch my drift.”

“No problem. Why don’t you come round for breakfast in the morning and take it from there?”

“That would be perfect. What time?”