“And at the crucial time when the murder must have been committed to avoid any comings and goings, Jessica saw Sarah in the cloakroom. She tried to talk to her. But Sarah went straight upstairs. Jessica didn’t see her again that night.

“That removed Sarah from the list of suspects. But it put her father right back into the frame. However, Anthony Barrington still seemed a possibility, and I thought on balance I’d prefer to talk to him. Barrington gave me such a hard time, I was convinced he was innocent. He was too outraged to be guilty. And then, of course, he called Dart and I was hauled off to the nick.

“And the rest you know,” she said, closing her eyes as a wave of tiredness hit her.

She forced her eyes open again. “I’ve got to go and give the police a statement at noon. And then, if you don’t mind, Paddy, I want to go home. I’ve got work to go to on Wednesday, and I could do with a day’s sleep.”

“I understand,” said Paddy. “I’ll never be able to pay you and Cordelia back for what you’ve done for me. But come back soon and see us again, promise?”

Lindsay grinned but said, “Ouch! I must stop doing that. I’ll come soon if you guarantee no hassles.”

“I guarantee it.” They smiled at each other, relaxed again after the upheavals of the last ten days.

“I’ll drive you back to Glasgow,” said Cordelia, “you’re far too tired to hammer up the motorway on your own. Besides, I think we’ve got one or two things to talk about.”

Paddy’s eyebrows had shot up. “Well, well, well,” she marveled. “I see some good has come out of all this.”

“Surprised?” demanded Cordelia.

“Before we get into all of that, I need to phone my news-desk,” said Lindsay apologetically. “Sorry. Since I’ve got to go down the cop shop this morning, if I don’t put over a story nice and early my life won’t be worth living on Wednesday. Can I use the phone?”

Paddy grinned at Cordelia. “How does it feel to play second fiddle to a news story?”

Cordelia pulled a face. “I don’t think I want to get used to the idea. Maybe Lindsay could change her priorities . . . just a bit?”

Lindsay dialed the number. “Yeah, yeah, okay, Cordelia. I’ll work on it. But tomorrow, eh, please . . . Hello? Duncan? Lindsay here. I’ve got a real belter for you this morning . . .”

Val McDermid is the author of twenty-four bestselling novels, which have been translated into thirty languages and have sold over ten million copies. She has won many awards internationally, including the CWA Gold Dagger for best crime novel of the year and the LA Times Book of the Year award. She has a son and a dog, and lives in the north of England.