We walked outside into the fading light; nightfall was not far away. At a funereal pace, like the bandsmen of the Grenadier Guards doing a slow march, we proceeded until we stopped outside the big picture window under which the body of Negrini lay. I looked in through the window and saw a movement at the settee, which ceased even as I watched.

‘Okay,’ said Bette. ‘Now make it slow and easy. Bend your knees.’

Negrini’s body was at my feet. I bent my knees until I was squatting. ‘Take out his wallet and hold it up over your head. Remember there’s a gun not far from your skull.’

Carefully I felt inside Negrini’s jacket until I found his inner breast pocket and the wallet that was in it. I took out the wallet and transferred it to my left hand and held it up. It was twitched from my fingers. ‘Keep your hand there.’

My right hand, screened by my body, was busy. I found Negrini’s automatic pistol, slid it from its holster and brought it close to my waist. From behind I heard Bette’s breath come from her lips in a sudden hiss. ‘All right, so you called that one.’

‘Why would I lie?’ I asked. I sucked in my belly and pushed the gun down the waistband of my trousers.

‘Get up,’ she ordered. ‘As slowly as you went down.’

We went back into the house at the same pace and I sat down again, being careful not to let my jacket swing open. Leotta, who had been sitting back, came forward again, and Jill lifted her left arm and began to rub it. It almost looked as though Leotta had been holding Jill’s arm twisted behind her back, though I could have been wrong.

Bette was flipping through the wallet. ‘It’s Negrini, all right. Driving licence, club cards, credit cards.’ She tossed the wallet on to the floor. ‘So the guy’s dead,’ she said. ‘It could happen to anybody.’

I could have built up her fright again but I didn’t. It had served its purpose and I didn’t want her frightened again: she was dangerous in that condition. I said, ‘Two years’ planning? Must have been a lot of work. I suppose your husband and Philips did most of it.’

Vanity again. Bette stared at me. ‘Are you kidding? That pair of slobs are a waste of space. All they can do is fly airplanes. But that’s all they need to do. That and provide the muscle.’ She tapped herself on the chest. ‘This one is all mine.’

I nodded judiciously. ‘It’s possible, I suppose.’

‘Goddammit! What do you mean, possible?’

‘Oh, don’t misunderstand me,’ I said. ‘I’m no male chauvinist pig.’ I shook my head. ‘I just don’t see how you’re going to do it.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘You haven’t done the homework I’ve done.’