“No, I hadn’t. Really, Ms. Falkner, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But there must be something,” I said, in desperation. “I’ve found this piece of paper, Greg wanted to see you urgently, just at the time he died. You must try to think.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t help you anymore.”

“But don’t you see—” I realized the line was dead. I couldn’t believe it. She’d actually hung up on me.

Almost in a dream, I walked through to the kitchen. I laid the paper on the table. I boiled the kettle, made coffee and stared at it as if it was a mathematical problem that would yield an answer if I thought about it hard enough. Those signatures. I was sure I’d seen something like it before, but I couldn’t think where. It was like a fragment of a story and I tried to piece it together. I’ll ring you about this. Milena Livingstone. You? Greg? Milena calls Greg? Greg calls Marjorie Sutton? Had he seen something in the note that I couldn’t? Had Milena told him something?

I looked at the coffee mug. It was empty. I refilled it. It didn’t matter now. I would take it to Ramsay. Finally it was the connection I’d been looking for. The professionals could deal with it. I found an old envelope and slipped the piece of paper inside. I put the envelope into my shoulder bag. As I was pulling on my jacket, the doorbell rang. It was Joe. I must have looked almost comically puzzled. He smiled.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” he said.

“Everybody’s worried about me. I’m fine.”

“One of our clients phoned the office. She’s in a state. She said a woman had been ringing her and asking her strange questions.”

“Marjorie Sutton. But you don’t need to concern yourself about me,” I said, pulling the door shut behind me and walking toward Gwen’s car. “I was on my way out.”

“The way that woman was talking, I thought you might be having some sort of breakdown. You can’t go disturbing old ladies like that.”

“There are things I need to know.”

“What things?”

I unlocked the car door. “I can’t talk,” I said. “I’ve got to go. One of my regular visits to the police.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I don’t,” I said, and then stopped myself. “No, thank you.”

“Could you at least drop me at a station? I let my cab go.”

“Sure,” I said. “So long as you behave yourself.”

As I drove off, I half expected to feel Joe’s hand on my knee.

“What are you seeing them about?”

I told him about the piece of paper and where I’d found it.

“Isn’t that just a scrap of paper?” he said.