“Are you not?” Kim said, and then, “You aren’t staying here, are you?”

“Certainly not, darling, we’re at the Savoy. Now tell me at once—sorry, Will, darling, but we’ve already done the how-are-yous with Kim and I know Maisie is dying to tell you everything but we did fly over here for the Chingford catastrophe, so let’s just launch into that and then we can catch up on everything afterwards.”

Will glanced at Maisie, who gave him a laughing nod. “Carry on.”

“Wonderful. Now, what on earth has he done this time?”

“Murder,” Kim said, and summarised the situation crisply while he mixed sidecars.

Phoebe made a face of profound disgust at the end. “Really, he is the most appalling nuisance. You don’t think he’ll hang, do you?”

“I am exceedingly concerned he will.”

Phoebe glanced at Will, who was on the sofa with Maisie. He opened his hands to indicate I know, we’re buggered. “Oh, but no. That won’t do at all. Your father—”

“If you have any ideas on how to avert it, I’m all ears.” Kim handed glasses round.

“But you’re doing something, aren’t you?”

“Trying to. Will discovered that Fairfax, the victim, was not the blameless innocent of the newspaper reports”—at this, Maisie sat up very straight—“but a blackmailer. That opens the door to the possibility of other culprits, but it also offers an obvious motive for Chingford. Motive, fingerprints, presence at the scene of the crime, and it would suit everyone if this could be tidied away promptly. Except for Chingford, of course, and my father, and me. I wonder if we have been so united as a family before.”

“But haven’t the police got evidence of other victims?”

“Not a scrap,” Kim said. “They have the testimony of one chap he tried it on with, which the Inspector in charge is now taking rather more seriously, but that’s only so much to go on. The Inspector also says they have been through Fairfax’s house with a fine-tooth comb and found nothing that casts a bad light on the man. He paid his taxes. He was a blameless bachelor, or at least divorcee. No wine, women, song, or unexplained sums in his bank account. He didn’t have a little black book of victims, or if he did, they haven’t found it.”

“But—” Will and Maisie said at once. He glanced at her. She said, “I’ve something to say, but you go first.”

“But.” Will felt bad about raising this in front of Phoebe, but Kim needed to know and they were, or ought to be, finished with lies. “The thing is, he had a tattoo on his wrist. A funny sort of one—”

“The Zodiac people?” Maisie said on an inhale.