Lindsay dished up the dessert as the conversation continued. Antonis leaned back in his chair and said, “Motives are all very well. But no one is interested in motives now. There is someone paying the price for the crime. That keeps the police happy.”

“But she’s innocent!” Lindsay protested.

Antonis shrugged expressively. “Excuse me, I do not mean to be rude. I know she is a friend of yours. But I did not know the lady in question very well. You say she is innocent. But a court has said otherwise.”

“And that’s the end of the matter?” Sophie inquired casually, spooning the rich fruit sauce over her ice cream.

Again, he shrugged. “It should be. You Scots are so proud of your judicial process.”

“So we just forget about it? Even if a mistake has been made? Even if the murderer is free now? Relaxing after a good dinner like us?” Lindsay asked, deliberately not looking at anyone.

Antonis’ dark eyes narrowed. “There is still the small matter of proof.”

“I think what Lindsay’s getting at is that by examining the motives of other people it might be possible to come up with enough reasonable doubt to get Jackie out of prison,” Sophie said.

“There must be some clue somewhere as to who her other lovers were,” Lindsay said. “Didn’t she keep a diary or anything? Ruth, you were her best friend. You must have some ideas.”

Antonis froze with a spoonful of fruit halfway to his mouth, and cast a startled look at his wife. But Ruth only shook her head. “You know how secretive she could be. And there wasn’t any sign of a diary or anything among her papers.”

“Did you have to go through them, then?” Lindsay probed.

Ruth played nervously with her fork and spoon. “No. But I helped her mother pack everything up after the police had finished with the flat. We didn’t really look at anything . . . we just packed all her letters and cuttings and computer disks into boxes. Neither of us could bear to read anything that would remind us of her. We were still in shock, you see. Her mother took it all home to Dundee with her. I suppose one day she’ll be able to bring herself to . . .” Ruth tailed off, looking as if she was about to burst into tears.

“So no one actually looked through it? Not even the police?” Lindsay asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It didn’t look as if it had been disturbed,” Ruth said.

Antonis leaned forward and put his strong, hairy forearms on the table. “Why should they have studied her documents?” he asked intensely. “They already had their hands on Alison’s killer.”

“True,” Lindsay sighed, pushing away her empty plate and lighting up a cigarette.

“Must we carry on talking about this?” Ruth suddenly said. “I’m sorry but I just find it so . . .”