Inspector Dart was sitting behind a cluttered desk. He glanced up at her, shook his head wearily, and said, “Some coppers get to spend Sunday night at home with their feet up watching Dirty Harry on the video. Other poor sods get dragged out because they happen to get tangled up in cases that throw up right stupid bastards. Guess which category I come into, Miss Gordon?”

Lindsay said nothing. Her silence clearly exasperated him. He went on. “I could say, I suppose you’re wondering why I had you brought here tonight. But that would be a pretty silly thing to say to someone who thinks she’s smarter than the whole of Derbyshire Constabulary. I think you know very well why you’re sitting here tonight.

“I’ve had a complaint about your activities. A very strongly worded complaint from a very irate gentleman who alleges that you virtually accused him of committing murder. Not even an unsolved murder, at that. A murder to which an eighteen-year-old girl confessed before she killed herself in an extremely unpleasant and painful way. Now I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing at, but this gentleman told me a great deal about your little chat. I presume you know what I’m talking about? Or are there some more people scattered round the countryside that you’ve been accusing of murder? Well?”

“I suppose Anthony Barrington’s been on the phone,” said Lindsay resignedly. She was thankful that her journalistic experiences over the last few years had destroyed any awe and respect she had ever felt for the police. It made the interview a little easier to deal with at the end of a draining day.

“He has indeed, Miss Gordon. And from what he says, you really have been playing silly buggers this time. Isn’t it enough to drive one girl to suicide? Don’t you think that’s sufficient mayhem for one weekend?”

“That’s unfair. Sarah did what she did for her own reasons, which I suspect had little to do with me. But I managed to work out what really happened last Saturday night—which is more than you and your men achieved.”

They glowered at each other across the desk. When Inspector Dart spoke again, he sounded calmer, “I’m at a loss to know what you’re playing at. I want an explanation.”

“If you treated people in an adult and reasonable way, you might get explanations more often. But every time I’ve spoken to you, all I’ve had is hostility and aggression. That, together with the fact that you locked up my best mate for a crime she had nothing to do with, means you shouldn’t be surprised that if I’ve got any ideas at all about this business, I want to check them out myself before I entrust them to you.”