‘Well – she really loved her brother, didn’t she? God, that was always obvious. He was probably the only person she could really rely on. Months before, around the time she and Evan split up the first time, I was making her up for the Stella show, and she was telling everyone her brother was really pissing her off, going on and on about what a freeloader Evan was. And you know, Evan was jacking her around again, that last afternoon, so she was thinking that James – is it James? – had had him right all along. She always knew he had her interests at heart, even if he was a bit bossy sometimes. This is a really, really exploitative business, you know. Everyone’s got an agenda.’

‘Who do you think had an agenda for Lula?’

‘Oh my God, everyone,’ said Bryony, making a wide sweeping gesture with her cigarette-holding hand, which encompassed all of the inhabited rooms outside. ‘She was the hottest model out there, everyone wanted a piece of her. I mean, Guy—’ But Bryony broke off. ‘Well, Guy’s a businessman, but he did adore her; he wanted her to go and live with him after that stalker business. He’s still not right about her dying. I heard he tried to contact her through some spiritualist. Margo Leiter told me. He’s still devastated, he can barely hear her name without crying. Anyway,’ said Bryony, ‘that’s all I know. I never dreamed that afternoon would be the last time I saw her. I mean, my God.’

‘Did she talk about Duffield at all, while you were – er – threading her eyebrows?’

‘No,’ said Bryony, ‘but she wouldn’t, would she, if he was really hacking her off?’

‘So as far as you can remember, she mainly spoke about Deeby Macc?’

‘Well… it was more Ciara and me talking about him.’

‘But you think she was excited to meet him?’

‘God, yeah, of course.’

‘Tell me, did you see a blue piece of paper with Lula’s handwriting on it when you were in the flat?’

Bryony shook her hair over her face again, and combed it with her fingers.

‘What? No. No, I didn’t see anything like that. Why, what was it?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Strike. ‘That’s what I’d like to find out.’

‘No, I didn’t see it. Blue, did you say? No.’

‘Did you see any paper at all with her writing on it?’

‘No, I can’t remember any papers. No.’ She shook her hair out of her face. ‘I mean, something like that could’ve been lying around, but I wouldn’t have necessarily noticed it.’

The room was dingy. Perhaps he only imagined that she had changed colour, but he had not invented the way she twisted her right foot up on to her knee and examined the sole of the leather ballet slipper for something that was not there.

‘Lula’s driver, Kieran Kolovas-Jones…’