I gave Jo a list of the relevant names I had noted. Frejah’s of course, but also the name of the cop she had been partnered with in Dearth City, the murdered man, and the alleged murderer. I spelt them to Jo phonetically. The victim, for instance, was called Woller (or perhaps Waller) Allmann (or Alman or Almann).

‘I’ll have a look for you,’ Jo said. ‘That’s possibly enough to be going on with.’

‘Tomorrow I’ll check the spelling of the names with this woman. Perhaps you should wait until I have those.’

‘I’ll make a start,’ Jo said.

I would not normally ask Jo to begin my research for me, but there was something about Frejah’s story, or in particular her defensive body language when telling it to me, that gave her account a certain extra interest. I was certain it was to some extent confessional, suggesting she was involved not so much in the investigation, as she claimed, but in the crime itself. For now, that hunch was enough to give me the feeling I should listen properly to her account as soon as I was home.

‘So when do you think you’ll be back here?’ Jo said.

‘I’m hoping to catch the evening flight tomorrow, but if not I’ll be on the first one the next morning.’

Jo then started telling me about a new job that might be coming her way: a design commission from a major theatre on the island of Muriseay. She would have to fly across there sometime soon and maybe stay a few days, depending on how it worked out. I knew this was the sort of chance she had been hoping for, and I was happy to hear her talking excitedly about the details of the producer who had contacted her, the theatre, the time deadlines, the probable fee. It could be a big break for her.

Presumed Guilty

10

Presumed Guilty

Frejah Harsent and I met for breakfast in the hotel bar, then continued our long drive northwards across Dearth. We were soon passing through another grim industrial area. We saw open-cast mine workings, steelworks and gigantic windowless factories sealed from the world. Tall chimneys gushed white and black smoke. Smaller ones expelled worryingly coloured fumes. Vast estates of dull housing were spread across the undulating landscape. There was a shroud of smoke or fog in the air, low and gloomy. The temperature remained below freezing. Pedestrians were few, but the highway now was cluttered with many vehicles. Frejah drove with her usual sense of dash, but we were always being held up by the slow-moving trucks travelling in both directions. I was used to her adventurous driving by then, and lay relaxed in the contoured, semi-reclined passenger seat. I was glad not to be on the train.