“No,” said Nuttall, looking at her with frightened eyes. “I didn’t go out at all that night. I didn’t feel well. I remember now.”

“Then who was driving your van?”

“I don’t know. Someone must have borrowed it.”

“Do people often borrow it without your permission?”

“No.”

“Well, then . . .”

“It must have been stolen.”

“But you didn’t report it stolen.”

“They must have brought it back before I noticed. That’s what happened. It was there the next morning, so I never realized it had been gone.”

“Don’t you check the fuel gauge? The mileage. For tax purposes.”

“I must have forgotten that time.”

“Have you been out in it since, Mr. Nuttall? Since the night it was ‘stolen’ and returned?”

“No. Just for a couple of local deliveries, like. No overnights.”

That meant there could still be forensic traces, if the VW Transporter had been involved in Mimosa Moffat’s murder. “OK,” said Annie. “I’m losing my patience just a little bit here, Mr. Nuttall. No matter what, we’re going to take your van in for forensic examination immediately. Now you can cooperate with us here and now, or you can come in to the station in Eastvale with us and we can talk further there while we wait for the results. Either way, I simply want you to tell the truth. I don’t think you’ve done anything terribly wrong. I don’t know what you’re afraid of, but believe me, whatever it is, it won’t be worse than getting charged with murder, which is what will happen if you don’t come clean.”

Nuttall swallowed. “Murder?”

“That’s right.”

“I haven’t murdered anyone.”

“Then tell us the truth.”

“But he wouldn’t, not . . .”

“Not who, Mr. Nuttall? Do you know who “‘borrowed’” your car that night?”

Nuttall nodded.

“Tell me.”

There was a long pause as Nuttall seemed to consider his options. Finally, he took a packet of cigarettes from his top pocket and asked if he could smoke. Normally Annie would have said no right off the bat, but she nodded reluctantly. Anything that might help him talk. It was his office, after all. The acrid sulfur of the match and smoke from the cigarette irritated her nostrils. She edged back a couple of inches and sipped some tea. She watched a black cat picking its way across the pile of tires in the yard and let the silence stretch.

“I can’t do it all myself,” Nuttall said finally. “So I have a lad to make some runs for me.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”