“I’ll tell you later.” She sighed. “Suffice it to say that it never happens like this in books. Your fictional detective never gets thrown out of rich men’s houses with threats of slander. I think in future I’ll stick to being a journo. At least journalism more or less lives up to its own mythology.”

Cordelia laughed softly and said, “You mean you really are a promiscuous alcoholic who spends her life running into crowded newsrooms yelling, ‘Hold the front page’?”

“But of course,” Lindsay replied. “Pour me a drink, pass me a woman and a cigarette while I knock out a world exclusive. I’ll see you later, okay?”

She made better time on the return journey, as there was little traffic about. Two hours of hard driving with Joan Armatrading blasting out of the stereo had made her feel better. She got out of the car singing and noticed with surprise that a police car was drawn up next to Paddy’s Land Rover. As she walked toward the door of the house, two uniformed officers got out of the car and intercepted her.

The elder of the two, a sergeant, said, “Miss Lindsay Gordon?”

“That’s right. What’s the problem?”

“Inspector Dart has asked me to bring you along to the police station. There are one or two things he wants to have a word with you about.”

She forced a taut smile to her lips and said in a voice that struggled to stay casual, “I don’t suppose I have a great deal of choice?”

The sergeant studied her, saying nothing. She shrugged and said, “Very well. Shall we go?”

They traveled the short journey to the police station in silence. The car pulled up by a long, low building above the town center. Lindsay followed the policemen inside to a large hallway with a reception desk closed off by partitions of frosted glass. The sergeant left her to wait with the constable and disappeared through a side door. From the reception area she could hear the low murmur of voices. Lindsay wondered what Dart could possibly want with her now.

A couple of minutes passed before the sergeant reappeared. It felt longer. “Come with me, please,” he said. “The Inspector’s waiting for you.”

They walked together down a long corridor. Even on a Sunday evening the station seemed busy. There were lights on throughout the building and people appeared in doorways and bustled along the corridors. They stopped before an unmarked door and the sergeant knocked. It was opened by Dart’s silent young sidekick. He stood back for her to enter and the two uniformed men departed.