“Because the two of you were stealing millions of dollars from Dream Time. You knew that eventually the police would catch up with you. And there was always the danger that someone like Joe Carter would come over from America to find out what was happening to his money. You were the brains behind the charity. You were the ‘big wheels,’ if you like. But you needed someone to take the blame and then disappear. That was Lenny Smile. Henderson—the policeman—must have found out what was going on, so he had to die, too. And that was your brilliant idea. You’d turn Henderson into Lenny Smile. He went under the steamroller and, as far as you were concerned, that was the end of the matter. Smile was dead. There was nothing left to investigate.”

The car was still moving up. There were a few pedestrians out on the South Bank. By now they were no more than dots.

“But now the police think Lenny Smile is alive,” I went on. “That’s why the two of you aren’t in jail. They’re looking for him. They don’t have any proof against you. So the two of you are in the clear!”

Hoover had listened to all this in silence but now he smiled, his thin lips peeling back from his teeth. “You have it exactly right,” he said. “Fiona and I are nobodies. We were just working for Lenny Smile. He is the real crook. And, as you say, they have no proof. Nobody has any proof.”

“Hoover dressed up as Lenny Smile . . .” Tim was still trying to work it all out.

“Only once. For the photograph that Joe Carter requested. But he was wearing the same coat and the same gloves when we saw him—which is why we thought he was Lenny Smile. Both times, he was too far away for us to see his face. And, of course, in the photograph the face was purposely blurred.” I turned to Rodney. “I’d be interested to know, though. What were you doing in the cemetery?”

Hoover shrugged. “I realized that the bloody fool of an undertaker had made a mistake with the date on the gravestone. I went there to put it right. When I saw you and your brother at the grave, I knew something was wrong. I have to admit, I panicked. And ran.”

“And the circus . . .?”

“Mrs. Lovely told us there had been a witness. I had to track him down and make sure he didn’t talk.”

“But it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d talked,” Tim said. “He was Russian! Nobody would have understood.”

“I don’t believe in taking chances,” Rodney said. His hand had slid into his coat pocket. Why wasn’t I surprised, when it came out, to see that it was holding a gun?

“He’s got a gun!” Tim squealed.

“That’s right, Tim,” I said.