“It’s not much of an alibi, is it? It only takes five minutes to get from Caird House to your gallery, after all,” Lindsay said coldly. “You could easily have killed Alison, phoned your client from her flat, then raced off to the gallery to receive the phone call you hoped would give you an alibi.” Ruth stared at her in mute horror, her hands gripped so tight on her glass that her knuckles showed white.

Lindsay paused to light a cigarette then continued, aware that her audience was hanging tensely on her every word. “Up until yesterday, this was all I had. A collection of suspects with no hard evidence against any of them. The only evidence that might tie any one of them to the murder was half a thumbprint on a glass. But short of secretly obtaining fingerprints from them all, I was stuck. Then, as a result of inquiries into a completely separate matter, I found someone who can crack this case wide open. I found a witness. I found the one person who saw Alison Maxwell’s murderer leave the flat, a good ten minutes after Jackie Mitchell.” Lindsay looked round at her audience. Claire looked stunned, Cordelia sat up straight, and Ruth was frozen with fear.

Lindsay walked across the room to the door. “His name is Alex and he’s a rent boy. That’s why he didn’t go to the police at the time. He thought that no one would believe his story, because the police were convinced they already had the killer. He didn’t want to get himself into trouble, so he kept his head down. But there’s no doubt about it. Alex was in Caird House visiting a client on the afternoon of the murder. He left his lover’s flat just after the six o’clock news started on the radio, and he saw Alison Maxwell’s killer. If you’ll all wait here, I’ll just go and get him.”

She opened the door and called, “Sophie? Can you bring Alex through?” Lindsay turned back to the room as Sophie walked in with Alex behind her. He looked slightly apprehensive, but excited.

Lindsay ushered him forward. “Alex, I want you to look very carefully at the people in this room. If you can see the person whom you saw leaving Alison Maxwell’s flat on the evening of the murder, I want you to point to him or her. Take your time, now. I want you to be sure. Okay?” Convinced that he was going to point to Ruth, Lindsay watched him carefully.

He nodded. Slowly, his eyes traveled from face to anxious face. Then, almost in slow motion, his arm came up and pointed to Cordelia. “That’s her,” he said. “I’d swear it. I’d know her anywhere.”

19