“Jackie was seen by Alison’s mother leaving the building by the side door at five minutes to six. Mrs. Maxwell was trying to gain admittance to the block. We have security entryphones, and there was no response from Alison’s flat. Mrs. Maxwell had to wait another fifteen minutes before someone arrived who could let her into the building. They went up in the lift together. Mrs. Maxwell went straight to Alison’s flat, where the front door was ajar. She walked as far as the bedroom door, saw her daughter, and started screaming,” Rosalind explained.

“Jackie maintained at the time, and later, that she had left the flat nearly half an hour before the body was discovered. She had walked down the fire escape stairs rather than take the lift, and stopped to have a cigarette and a think. The police took the not unreasonable view that this was scarcely normal behavior. And of course, once they had Jackie in custody, and had satisfied the Procurator Fiscal that the case against her covered all the eventualities, the investigation stopped dead.”

It didn’t leave too many avenues for exploring, Lindsay thought to herself as she finished her coffee. But Rosalind had been able to give her a spare set of keys to the building and her flat. Later this afternoon, Lindsay would take advantage of that to have a good look around and refresh her memory about the layout of the block that had once been almost as familiar as her own tenement. But first, she had to face Claire.

She glanced in the full-length mirror in the hall as she reached for her heavy sheepskin jacket. If Cordelia was going to be at Claire’s, Lindsay wanted to look her best. All the exercise and healthy eating in Italy had left her nearly a stone lighter, and her tight Levis emphasized the fact. But her thick Aran sweater did her no favors. Impatiently, Lindsay pulled it off and surveyed herself in the loose but flattering scarlet polo shirt she was wearing underneath. She’d probably freeze to death, but at least she was looking pretty good. She shrugged into her jacket, determined to show Cordelia exactly what she was missing!

4

Lindsay managed to find a free parking meter by the river, a couple of streets away from Claire’s flat. She set the alarm on her ancient MGB roadster then strode briskly through the misty winter air, casting a jaundiced eye on the cold gray waters of the Clyde. Not an improvement on the blue of the Adriatic, she thought. At times like this, she wished she’d never left Italy. Fancy thinking coming home would solve anything.