“He’s not done anything, as far as I know. Just dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.”

“Well, they were here all right. The three of them. Went through a fair bit of champagne and claret with their meals. Cognac and Sauternes later, too, I heard. I hope none of them was driving.”

“No. It’s not about that. And they weren’t. At least Blaydon wasn’t. He had his driver waiting out front.”

“Not here, he didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve seen the street for yourself. It’s little more than a snicket, hardly the most welcoming surface for motorized vehicles, though you can just about get a Mini down it. He’d never get that Merc of his out at the York Road end. It’s narrower there. Besides, if he had parked outside, he would have blocked the entire street, and nobody would stand for that. It’s double yellow lines all the way, even for the likes of Mr. Blaydon and his driver.”

Blaydon had said his driver was waiting “out front.” It might have been just a casual turn of phrase, meaning that he was waiting somewhere nearby. Or perhaps Blaydon wanted to give his driver an alibi? Frankie Wallace could have driven anywhere in the area, done anything, while Blaydon tucked into his garlic snails. Even Annie’s theory that they had dumped the body early could be possible, if Mrs. Grunwell and her neighbors were mistaken in what they said they heard later, or what it meant. And if Dr. Galway’s assessment of times was not quite accurate.

“Did Blaydon pay by credit card?”

“I’m sure he did. He usually does. But I wasn’t here when the party left so I can’t say for sure. I can dig it out for you if you like?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

McGuigan reached for a folder and sorted through the stack of receipts, finally handing one to Banks. It was paid at ten fifty-six. By the time they had all got outside and into the car, it would have been eleven or after. Banks nearly did a double-take when he saw the amount. The tip alone was far more than he had ever spent on dinner for three. He handed the receipt back and asked, “What time did you go home?”

“Good Lord, don’t tell me I’m a suspect, too?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

“I left at about half past nine. They were well into their sweets, and the first bottle of Sauternes, by then.”

“Other diners?”

“The place was fully booked, as usual, but people were beginning to drift away by then. Florence said Mr. Blaydon’s party was the last to leave.”

“Is Florence here?”

“Not right now. She doesn’t start until about five.”

“That’s OK,” Banks said. “I’ll have one of my officers talk to her later today or tomorrow.”