“It is distressing,” Antonis agreed with a heavy finality in his voice that even Lindsay couldn’t argue with. “And it is in the past now. I think we should leave the dead in peace. Tell me, Sophie, what progress are you making in the care of your AIDS patients?”

Sophie closed the door behind Ruth and Antonis with a huge sigh of relief. “That,” she complained as she returned to the living room, “was above and beyond the call of duty.” She collapsed on the sofa with a groan. “They are dire!”

“I know,” Lindsay commiserated. “I’m sorry. Let me get you another brandy.”

“Please,” Sophie begged. “Promise me we don’t have to have them round for dinner ever again.”

“I promise. I’ll tell you something, though. That Antonis is a very cool customer. If I hadn’t known he was one of Alison’s lovers, I’d never have guessed from that performance,” Lindsay announced as she poured Sophie’s drink.

“And he trotted out his alibi as if he’d been waiting for months to get the chance to parade it before someone. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does. Maybe I should take a little look at Antonis’ movements. Though I don’t quite know how I’m going to manage it. You performed beautifully, by the way,” Lindsay congratulated her as she handed her a glass of brandy.

“Perhaps I’ve finally found my natural role in life. Ms. Nasty to your Ms. Nice. So, what do you think? Any closer to an answer?”

Lindsay shrugged. “What is it the song says? ‘There are more questions than answers, And the more I find out, the less I know!’” She paced the floor as she worked through the facts she had gathered. Past experience had taught her that the best way to order her thoughts was to bounce them off someone. And when it came to providing her with stimulating responses, Sophie had already proved herself that evening.

“Claire has no alibi, and she has motive,” Lindsay began, ticking people off on her fingers as she paced. She worked her way through Claire, Jimmy Mills, Ian McIntosh, Ruth, and Antonis, and concluded, “What we are distinctly lacking is any proof.”

“What about the thumbprint that you told me about? Couldn’t we get prints from all those suspects and see if any of them match?” Sophie suggested.

Lindsay sighed. “I guess it might have to come to that. But I can’t see the police being very cooperative. And I really haven’t the faintest idea if you can get freelance fingerprint experts to check out any prints we might obtain by subterfuge. I don’t know, Sophie. I’m completely confused.” She threw herself down on the sofa beside Sophie.