‘Oh, that really, really cute guy?’ said Bryony. ‘We used to tease her about Kieran; he had such a gigantic crush on her. I think Ciara uses him now sometimes.’ Bryony gave a meaningful little giggle. ‘She’s got a bit of a rep as a good-time girl, Ciara. I mean, you can’t help liking her, but…’

‘Kolovas-Jones says that Lula was writing something on blue paper in the back of his car, when she left her mother’s that day…’

‘Have you talked to Lula’s mother yet? She’s a bit weird.’

‘… and I’d like to find out what it was.’

Bryony flicked her cigarette stub out of the open door and shifted restlessly on the desk.

‘It could have been anything.’ He waited for the inevitable suggestion, and was not disappointed. ‘A shopping list or something.’

‘Yeah, it could’ve been; but if, for the sake of argument, it was a suicide note…’

‘But it wasn’t – I mean, that’s silly – how could it’ve been? Who’d write a suicide note that far in advance, and then get their face done and go out dancing? That doesn’t make any sense at all!’

‘It doesn’t seem likely, I agree, but it would be good to find out what it was.’

‘Maybe it had nothing to do with her dying. Why couldn’t it have been a letter to Evan or something, telling him how hacked off she was?’

‘She doesn’t seem to have become hacked off with him until later that day. Anyway, why would she write a letter, when she had his telephone number and was going to see him that night?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Bryony restlessly. ‘I’m just saying, it could’ve been something that doesn’t make any difference.’

‘And you’re quite sure you didn’t see it?’

‘Yes, I’m quite sure,’ she said, her colour definitely heightened. ‘I was there to do a job, not go snooping around her stuff. Is that everything, then?’

‘Yeah, I think that’s all I’ve got to ask about that afternoon,’ said Strike, ‘but you might be able to help me with something else. Do you know Tansy Bestigui?’

‘No,’ said Bryony. ‘Only her sister, Ursula. She’s hired me a couple of times for big parties. She’s awful.’

‘In what way?’

‘Just one of those spoiled rich women – well,’ said Bryony, with a twist to her mouth, ‘she isn’t nearly as rich as she’d like to be. Both those Chillingham sisters went for old men with bags of money; wealth-seeking missiles, the pair of them. Ursula thought she’d hit the jackpot when she married Cyprian May, but he hasn’t got nearly enough for her. She’s knocking forty now; the opportunities aren’t there the way they used to be. I suppose that’s why she hasn’t been able to trade up.’