“Are you sure? Lee kept a written record of his sister’s lies? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. And the notebooks were with Nicki’s things, not Lee’s, but that’s definitely his writing.” Two tears spilled over and snaked down Melissa’s face. “I’m too scared to ask him about it. I tried to mention the notebooks to Nicki and she slammed the phone down on me. I’m scared I might have traded in my best ever friend for . . .” Melissa bit down hard on her bottom lip. She seemed to have decided against whatever she’d been about to say.

“Can I hang on to these notebooks?” Charlie asked her. “I’m sure they have no bearing on the investigation into Damon Blundy’s murder, but . . . I’d like to put them in front of people who know more about it than I do.”

“Keep them,” said Melissa. “I wish I’d never found them.”

Was she worried it was her husband and not his sister who belonged in an asylum? Charlie would be, in her shoes. Who keeps lists of lies?

The table started to vibrate. “Your phone’s ringing,” said Melissa.

It was bound to be Simon, calling with more ambiguous teasers to drive Charlie insane. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll switch it off. I . . . Oh.”

It wasn’t a phone call. It was an email, to Charlie’s “Confidant” account, the one she set up to post her “Looking for a Woman with a Secret” ad on the Intimate Links website. “Can you excuse me for a second?” she asked Melissa. She didn’t notice the response, if there was one.

In the ladies’ room at Mario’s, mercifully free from Fortunata’s singing, Charlie opened the email that had arrived from “Nicki,” whose email address was “[email protected].” She started to read.

Interesting and . . . Oh shit. Too interesting. And potentially lethal.

She texted Simon: “Just had a reply to my Intimate Links ad from ‘Nicki.’ Meet me CID room asap + team. C.”

Charlie hurried back to the operatic section of the café. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” she told Melissa. “Something urgent’s come up. Do you know someone who goes by the name of King Edward?”

“Know personally? No. I mean, I’ve obviously heard of King Edward the king—the Mrs. Simpson one. Do you mean him?”

She was either serious or the subtlest smart-arse in the world. “No, I mean a real-life man who uses the alias King Edward. Possibly an associate of Nicki’s.”

Melissa shook her head. “I’ve never heard of him,” she said.

From: Nicki <[email protected]>

Date: Tue, July 9, 2013 14:10:21

To: <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Looking for a Woman with a Secret

First King Edward, then Damon Blundy, then Gavin and now Confidant—your fourth assumed identity. Did you really think I’d fall for another one?