‘Is this her?’ Vera asked. ‘Is this Margaret Krukowski and the Polish love of her life?’

‘Oh yes, this is her.’ The answer was immediate and unequivocal. ‘Our victim has the same mouth and the same cheekbones.’ She saw that Joe couldn’t take his eyes off the photograph.

‘A bonny little thing.’ She kept her voice light. Nobody had ever called her bonny.

‘She’s beautiful,’ he said and then he gave a little laugh, as if recognized how silly he was being, because he was drawn to a photograph that was fifty years old. But still he continued, ‘That’s a face that men would kill for.’

Chapter Five

On the middle landing Kate took her mobile phone from her pocket and phoned Stuart, her lover. The first real relationship she’d had since Rob had died on the rigs. Stuart was more at home in the hills than in a house, but he could play the sax like a dream, and now she was haunted by thoughts of him. There was no reply and she left a message. ‘Please give me a ring.’ Walking down, Kate wondered how she would tell the kids that Margaret was dead. They’d known her for most of their lives. She’d been their babysitter and they’d treated her like a gran. Ryan still spent a lot of time with her. This year, with Stu on the scene, and with Kate full of new plans, they’d already had to adjust to change. Kate slowed her steps to give herself time to compose the words and realized she had no idea what her children’s reaction would be. They’d grown up and away from her and she could no longer trust her judgement where they were concerned.

George Enderby must have heard her steps, or perhaps he was listening out for her, because the door of his room opened and he stuck out his head.

‘Everything all right, Kate?’ His voice seemed genuinely concerned. Then a little embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘Margaret’s dead.’ She felt suddenly light-headed and leaned against the wall.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ He started out into the corridor before realizing that his door would swing shut and lock automatically behind him. Then he made a strange little hop, holding the door open with one foot, but leaning out towards her. ‘I didn’t know her well, but I never thought of her as an old woman. Was it something sudden? A heart attack?’

‘She was murdered,’ Kate said. ‘Stabbed on the Metro on her way home from town.’ Again it seemed as if the world was spinning around her. She sat on the bottom step and put her head in her hands.