“This is not the dead woman found on the beach.” Her tone was accusing.

“No, it isn’t. This woman is very much alive. But she’s of interest in this case. We wonder if she was here.”

“Here?” She actually pointed to the floor at their feet.

“No, I mean on Bryher.”

Ms. Bewley, still a mite put out by this turn of events, said, “Only one time.”

To which she added nothing as she opened a black ledger on the desk. The drama of but one sighting was lost on her.

Caught between surprise at this answer and the desire to throttle her, Jury said, “Where was ‘one time’?”

Running her finger down the ledger columns she said, “At the Hell Bay.” That was all.

“Ms. Bewley, could you tell me the exact circumstances?”

“Oh. Well, my brother and I were having dinner in the Hell Bay’s dining room, the night’s special being their excellent John Dory with shrimp.” Her eyes caught his as if she were about to reveal something important. “And roasted squash.”

Jury hoped the entire list of ingredients was not to follow.

“We were talking about the lack of custom of late. Surprising for this time of year …” On she went.

You asked for it, mate, thought Jury, as he sat down.

“… sitting at a table alone.”

His mind was so inhabited by the Bewley voice that he didn’t even notice this was the period. End of account. Good-bye to the woman in the picture.

“Then?”

Blank look. “Ate her food, I expect. I wasn’t waiting tables.” She smirked, enjoying her little foray into humor.

“Of course not, but this woman at some point must have moved.”

“Not until the man sat down.” Eyes dropped to the ledger again.

Silence. Jury did not know where he came by the control that held him to his chair. “The man?”

“I’ve no idea who he was.”

“No, but perhaps you could describe him?”

“Describe?”

This novel idea held her attention until someone walked into the room, not from outside but from a door at the back, nodded pleasantly to Jury and said, “Hullo, I’m the other half of the Bewley business.” He extended his hand. “Matthew Bewley, Josephine’s brother.”

Jury shook the hand as he produced his warrant card and the picture of Flora Flood once again. “I understand from your sister here that you saw her at the Hell Bay, in the dining room.”

Matthew was as direct as she was indirect, as full of detail about the right things as she was about the wrong, as willing to accede as she was to obstruct.

“Indeed. We were there for dinner and sat at a table not far from hers. She was joined as she was eating by a youngish man—well, youngish to me, as I’m now oldish—”

Josephine interrupted. “Don’t be silly, Matthew. You look ten years younger than you are.”