“I suggest we check that out with Paddy before we confront the girl with anything. If she’s telling the truth, it wouldn’t in itself be damning. Those seem to me to be perfectly normal things to do and say, taken by themselves. But coupled with the other bits and bobs the police have against Paddy, it can only be seen as more evidence weighing the scales against her. If Paddy denies that those events took place, we’re in a very different ball game. We’ll have to look at the reasons why the girl might be lying.”

“Surely she’d only tell that kind of lie against Paddy if she had something to hide,” Cordelia protested.

“Not necessarily. It could be she’s lying to protect herself. It could also be that she’s lying to protect her father because she knows he was involved. Or it could simply be that she’s made up this story because she only fears her father may be involved and she’s trying to divert police attention well away from him. Either way, we need to talk to Paddy about this. And quite honestly, with the interview we’ve got next, I’d rather put Sarah and her motives right to the back of my mind.”

They drank their coffee in a tense silence. Neither was looking forward to the forthcoming interview. Cordelia cleared away the cups, taking Paddy’s with her to the kitchen, and called through, “Have you got the photo?”

“Yes, in my handbag. I did a couple of seven by fives of the heads. Let’s hope I don’t have to use it as a shock tactic.”

Cordelia re-emerged. “I’m beginning to wish we’d never taken this on. I like Margaret Macdonald, for God’s sake. She taught me to like music, to listen properly to it.”

Lindsay got up and hugged her. “Just think of Paddy,” she whispered. “It may be unpleasant but you’re doing it for all the right reasons.”

They walked through pale autumn sunlight to Grin Low House and mounted the stairs in silence. Margaret Macdonald’s rooms were at the end of the first-floor corridor. Lindsay knocked on the door and was rewarded with, “Come in.” They entered to find the teacher sitting at a desk correcting some music in manuscript. When she saw who it was, she seemed startled. It would have been easy to read guilt into her look. Neither Lindsay nor Cordelia set much store by her reaction, since they already knew she was hiding something.

“I was rather expecting you two,” she said. “Miss Overton told me she’d asked you to help sort out this terrible business.” She stood up and gestured toward the three armchairs that were ranged round her gas fire. “Let’s be comfortable. Now, I suppose you want me to tell you about the concert and the music department, that sort of thing?”