‘My brother hates my father almost as much as I do. And he admitted to Kate – Katya – that I was alive when she asked. She put two and two together: she saw that my father was on the political up and she threatened to expose the fact that his son was a mad ex-junkie, still alive. Amongst other things.’

So Lana had been right. But that would mean James had known Dalziel was alive … Panic rose in my belly.

‘What sort of things?’

‘Things she had on my father.’

‘How did she know your father?’

‘Don’t be dim, darling.’ For a second, he sounded like the old Dalziel. ‘Because she was a whore.’

So it had been true all along. I thought of the photos of Higham, taken at three in the morning. The pictures of scantily clad women entering the house earlier. Some kind of posh brothel, presumably.

‘And then she paid the ultimate price.’ His voice slowed. ‘She died, didn’t she?’

I realised the thing in his hand was some kind of worry beads.

‘Yes. In my house. But it was an accident.’ I tried to keep up with what he was saying.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. It was, definitely. Or, at worst, it was some kind of stupid noble suicide.’ I saw James being hustled out. I saw Charlie Higham chatting up the girls who’d adored him. ‘It wasn’t murder. She fell.’

‘I see. Well. That’s one relief, I suppose.’

‘But – hang on. The trial. It was your father who got it stopped? Is that what you’re saying? And James – James knows you are alive?’

‘I guess so. And I don’t doubt my father had some hand in it once I’d applied the pressure.’

‘But he’s not that powerful, Dalziel. Not even Lord Higham could halt a trial.’

‘Never underestimate the old school tie, darling. The firm grip of the odd handshake. The power of the politically corrupt.’

‘And why would he?’

‘Because my father knew I’d come forward. Because he wants me back out of the way before the media cotton on. He plans to take over the world, you know,’ his eyes blazed, ‘and he doesn’t want his lunatic son emerging from the grave.’

Nothing made much sense right now. We sat in silence again, listening to the Americans bounce their shrill voices off the walls, giggling at each other like small children.

‘And the Kattans?’

He shrugged. ‘We were always going to pay, my darling, I guess, for our iniquity. Ash never forgave me for – for screwing with his girlfriend.’ I felt him hesitate on the harsh word. ‘Though she was already screwed, shall we say. Beautiful angel. Beautiful lost woman.’

‘Why did you do it? Why her?’