“I have a lousy memory,” she explained. “I bought a notebook this morning, just for this business, and copied out what we jotted down last night. And now, do you want to know what I unearthed?” Cordelia continued without waiting for Lindsay’s nod. “I picked up a fair bit of gossip, most of it general rather than specific to Lorna’s death. The more we discover, the less I like her. There was one little gem I picked up, however.

“A lesbian friend of mine, Fran, plays the violin for the Manchester Philharmonic. She told me Lorna once said something to her that might just be relevant. She says she particularly remembered it because, for once, Lorna wasn’t trying to score points or stage a put-down but was actually sounding human. It was along the lines of, ‘I tried it your way once and I must say I found it all indescribably sordid. But then I was still at school and didn’t know any better. Though the other person involved certainly should have known better.’ That’s all. Fran tried to get more out of her, but she clammed up. As if she regretted saying what she had and was determined to say no more. But I thought . . .”

“That a teacher might just fit the frame?” asked Lindsay. Cordelia nodded. “And the strong possibility for that would be Margaret Macdonald, wouldn’t it? It would certainly explain that scene between them in the garden on Saturday morning.” Lindsay went on. “They presumably had a lot of close contact, given Lorna’s talent. I don’t know who else is still at the school who was teaching when Lorna was a pupil, but her music teacher’s got to have been close to her. We’ll have to see what Margaret Macdonald has to say about this. I hope to goodness we can rule that piece of information out as irrelevant. Now, did your researches produce any other results?”

“Lorna’s current lover. He’s a television producer for Capital TV, Andrew Christie. But they’ve only been together for a couple of months, so I don’t know how much use he’d be to us. Still, I think we ought to see him anyway. If he can fit us in tomorrow night, we can shoot up to London and stay over at my place.”