‘Some notes I made,’ Spoder said. Then he added untruthfully: ‘Directions on how to get here from the airport, mostly.’

I said, intending to change the subject: ‘What we’d be interested to hear is anything you know about the day he died. Was the park open to the public that day, for example?’

‘Are you really a writer? Would I know your books?’

‘Look, my books aren’t important to this. Please tell me about the day Willer died?’

‘There were people here, I believe, but at the time it happened Willer was alone in the museum – the theatre as it was then. It was the end of the day and the park was about to close. I don’t know much about it. I wasn’t involved in the park at the time – I was still at school ten years ago. Vejo, that’s my partner, Vejo and I bought the rights to the park about four years ago. I found out about Willer’s death from a few things people said to me.’ She indicated the interior of the building. ‘Let me just check the atmosphere in there.’

As soon as she was inside, I said to Spoder: ‘I didn’t know you had children.’

‘Yes sir, a boy and a girl.’

‘Do they still live with you?’

‘No – they’re long gone. They’re twenty-five now, and left Salay after university. I see them two or three times a year. The boy’s on Muriseay, and the girl works on Paneron.’

‘They’re the same age?’

‘Yes.’

‘So they are . . . twins?’

‘Yes. Fraternal twins, not identical, of course.’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Spoder, I’m really glad you told me that.’

‘They’re the love of my life, sir.’

Ketty appeared at the door, indicating we should enter the building. Spoder walked ahead of me.

Like the exterior of the building, the walls inside were painted a deep red, giving a muted feeling to the place, crypt-like. The lights were against the walls, throwing indirect illumination below. Under most of the lights were the showcases, and some working examples of apparatus.