‘As you noted from his locked fists, Mr Buck had a cadaveric spasm in the moment of his death – instant rigor,’ she said. ‘What you like to call that Pompeii moment, Mallory. But Mr Jones is different. There was rigor in his legs but only in the legs. As you know, rigor mortis usually takes two hours to kick in unless there’s a cadaveric spasm – as in the case of Mr Buck – or a loss of energy in a part of the body. That causes a chemical reaction, a loss of adenosine triphosphate – ATP – that makes the muscles stiffen and contract. So rigor in the legs means one thing: there was strenuous muscular activity in the legs prior to death.’

We considered the corpse of Adam Jones.

‘So Jones was running,’ Mallory said.

‘He was being chased,’ I said.

Elsa Olsen smiled at me, like a teacher looking at her star student. She held out her hand, as if I had won a prize.

‘And this belonged to Mr Buck,’ she said, and dropped something into my palm.

A small blue thing, round and hard and staring at me from beyond the grave.

‘Hugo Buck had a glass eye,’ she announced.

Chapter 6

6

IT WAS LATE afternoon with the day’s light already fading when I parked outside the block of flats in Regent’s Park. The trees in the park were at their most beautiful now, a riot of red and gold leaves that had not yet become serious about falling. But it wouldn’t be long, I thought as I walked to the glass doors, wishing I had a coat. You could feel the world turning.

The porter let me in. Natasha Buck opened her door in her robe again. I couldn’t decide if it was a bit early to be in a robe, or very late. But this time her hair wasn’t wet. And this time she wasn’t alone.

A man moved across the living room, glaring at me, with a frosted champagne flute in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I recognised the chauffeur who had been lounging in the big black Merc. I recognised him even in his underpants. It must have been all my training.

‘You’re too late,’ Mrs Buck said.

‘This will only take a minute,’ I said.

The chauffeur came to the door, sipping his drink. He had come up in the world.

‘Is there a problem?’ he said.

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘Would you like one?’

‘I’ll be in the other room,’ he said.

Smart chauffeur.

He went away and took his iced champagne flute with him.

‘Tell me about your husband’s eye,’ I said. ‘The one he lost.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘How it happened.’