Harry was clearly impatient of such domestic chitchat. “So,” he said portentously. “You’re the young woman who succeeds where our incompetent police force fails? Tell me, how did you discover the culprit’s identity?”

“I’d rather not say,” Lindsay replied coldly. “I promised I wouldn’t reveal my source. But the information is sound.”

“Oh, I’m not doubting that for a moment,” Harry said hastily. “I was just curious.”

“Lindsay has all sorts of contacts,” Rosalind said as she put a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of Harry. The smell made Lindsay feel vaguely nauseous after her overindulgence the night before. “What would you like to eat, Lindsay? We’ve got eggs, bacon, mushrooms, sliced sausage, black pudding, potato scones . . .”

“Just toast, please. And some Marmite, if you’ve got it,” Lindsay replied. “Harry, what can you tell me about Alex McNaught?”

Harry flashed an uncertain look at Rosalind, who said reassuringly as if to a small child, “It’s all right, Harry. You can trust Lindsay.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, forcing a quick, artificial smile which revealed a row of perfect crowns. “I’m not accustomed to being able to trust members of your profession.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lindsay said wearily. “You’re not alone. Now. About Alex McNaught?”

Harry sighed and picked at his breakfast. Finally, he said, “I met Alex about six months ago. I picked him up in the city center and brought him back here.”

“Wasn’t that taking a bit of a chance?” Lindsay inquired, buttering a slice of toast and adding a thin coating of Marmite.

“As things turned out, it seems so. But I didn’t think it was at the time. He didn’t know who I was. I mean, he knew my name was Harry, but he didn’t know I was an M.P. I mean, I’m not exactly Neil Kinnock, am I? I’m hardly a household name in Kinradie, never mind Glasgow,” he said bitterly.

“So you brought him back here. And?”

“Well, we went to bed together. I took some Polaroid photographs of him.” Harry looked embarrassed. “Look, this is all a bit awkward, you know.”

“Better me than the Special Branch,” Lindsay commented, despising him for his lack of bottle.

“I suppose so. Well, I paid him, and drove him back to where I’d picked him up. I saw him again a couple of times over the next six weeks or so. And that was that. He was really a rather boring boy. Not someone I’d want to spend a lot of time with.”

Lindsay found a moment to wonder just why she was putting herself out for this unpleasant politician. Then she caught sight of Rosalind’s worried expression, and bit on the bullet. “When you say you saw him, do you mean you brought him back here for sex?” she asked bluntly.

“That’s right.”