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"Well, it's a pity you didn't establish ownership yesterday afternoon," said Frank sharply. "It might have saved us today's wasted exercise."

"Hardly, sir," said Maddocks with careful emphasis. "You'd have been even more inclined to pursue Miles Kingsley if you knew the hammer had come in from outside." He looked at the note again. "I'd like to know what set Dr. Protheroe asking questions of the gardeners. He was listening when Elphick told me he'd seen the sledgehammer before, and believe me, it didn't occur to him any more than it did to me or Fraser that the old boy had got it wrong." He put the paper on the desk. "What's the betting the girl put him up to it after you and I left this afternoon?''

"What are you suggesting now? Some sort of conspiracy theory?"

"I'm just commenting on the way we're being drip-fed information that seems to suit a certain party."

Frank folded himself into his chair and reached for the telephone. "Find out if DS Fraser's back and send him down to my office," he said into the mouthpiece. "Thank you." He leaned back to look at Maddocks. "Go on," he invited.

The DI shrugged. "It's gut instinct. She's our murderer. You see, I've always wondered how I'd do it if I ever wanted to get rid of someone. The received wisdom is, you keep it simple, engineer a reasonable alibi, and deny everything, but she couldn't do that because of Russell's murder. The police were bound to draw parallels, and whatever method she used to do away with Leo and Meg, she would still be in the firing line." He stroked his jaw. "So she's done what I would have done. She's made herself the obvious suspect by tying Leo's and Meg's murders to Russell's ten years ago, and my guess is, she's just waiting for the right moment to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the alibi Meg Harris gave her then is rock-solid. Which will leave us floundering because we've busted a gut to tie the three murders together."

"Are you saying she didn't murder Russell but did murder Leo and Meg?"

Maddocks nodded. "Yes. Look, you've read the Met reports. Landy's murder was a contract killing, carried out by one Jason Phelps on the instructions of Adam Kingsley. There was never anyone else in the frame. All this garbage about Adam not allowing Jane to find the body comes from her, and, damn it, she's had a hell of a long time to come up with excuses. She says herself that her brothers have always believed her father was responsible, and that's pretty obvious, frankly, from the way they behave. You don't grow up normal if you think your father's a ruthless murderer. And look at the wife. Drunk as a skunk by ten o'clock in the morning, according to Fordingbridge. We're talking major family breakdown here, and the idea that the daughter's immune from the madness is crazy." He paused to collect his thoughts, nodding briefly to Fraser as he entered the room. "I think she's telling us the truth about Russell. At the time of his death, I think she knew nothing about his affair with Meg. I also think she knew nothing about the murder and was genuinely shocked by it. But I'd argue that ten years of living with the knowledge that her father ordered it and got away with it has left her as damaged as she claims her two brothers to be."

THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC-7:15 P.M.

Sister Gordon was insistent. "Doctor's orders, Jinx. He wants you moved to a room upstairs."

"Why?"

"Good grief, girl," she said irritably, "do you question everything? How would I know? As usual, no one's bothered to tell me anything."

Jinx glanced towards her French windows. "I'd rather be in a room I can get out of if I have to."

"Yes, well, perhaps that's what's worrying the doctor," said Veronica tartly, who had been putting snippets from the rumor factory together with Alan's peculiar remark on Monday night and his sudden decision to move Jinx to a room upstairs. "I expect he'll feel safer knowing you've only got one exit."

ROMSEY ROAD POLICE STATION-7:25 P.M.

"There's a chance she did know about Meg's affair with Russell at the time of the murder," said Fraser slowly. "According to Hennessey, she told him about it after she lost her baby but, if you remember, her story was that she found some love letters in her attic a year later."

Maddocks put his hands on the Superintendent's desk and leaned forward belligerently. "I'm sure that's not the only lie she's told us. I swear to God, sir, she's leading us all by the nose."

"Why would Meg Harris give her an alibi?"

"Because she convinced Meg she was innocent. Damn it, she's all but convinced you and you hardly know her."

"Five minutes ago you were arguing she didn't kill Russell."

"Five minutes ago there was no evidence she knew about the affair, but you'll never get a better motive for murder than straightforward jealousy. Damn it, everything else I said stands. Even better if it was precious Jane who got away with Russell's murder-she could tie the other murders to it and say: 'But the Met have proof I wasn't involved. They know it was my father.' "

"There's still no evidence she knew about the affair before the event," Eraser pointed out. "If Hennessey's telling the truth, then we only have hearsay evidence that she knew about it at the time of her miscarriage, and that was two weeks after the murder."

"Is there any reason to think he isn't telling the truth?" asked the Superintendent.

Fraser shook his head. "No, but I wouldn't want to rely on him in a witness box. He's pretty hyped up at the moment, swings from anger against Meg for leaving him in the lurch, through anguish when he remembers she's dead, to a sort of sullen protection whenever Miss Kingsley's name is mentioned. I think he thinks Jane is responsible, but I also think he blames Meg for provoking her into it. My guess is, he was fond of them both and doesn't know who to blame."

Frank drew a doodle on a pad in front of him. "How fond?"

"He's known them both a long time." He consulted his notebook. "He was working with Meg at a company called Wellman and Hobbs when Jane was married to Russell."

"I meant, was he sleeping with either of them?"

THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC-7:30 P.M.

Fergus shouldered his way into Jinx's new room and stood aggressively over Matthew. "I want to speak to my sister," he said, jerking his head towards the door.

Matthew leaned forward to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. "I assumed the whole point of your being given another room was to stop aggressive visitors barging in," he told her. "I'll bet it was that old fool Elphick who told him where you are."

"You heard me," said Fergus. "On your bike."

Matthew ignored him. "Is he dangerous, or are you happy to speak to him in private?"

"I think I'm safe enough on my own."

"Okay. I'll be down the corridor. A good scream should fetch me back." He raised his skinny frame off the bed and squared up to Fergus. "I hope you're going to behave like a gentleman, Mr. Kingsley."

"Piss off," said Fergus. Matthew smiled gently before bringing his knee up with the speed of an express train into the young man's crotch and pushing him backwards against the wall. "Never judge a book by its cover," he murmured. He cocked a finger at Jinx. "Sorry, but your brother's a creep. I'll see you around."

Jinx waited till he'd gone, then looked down on the slumped, defeated shoulders of her baby brother. "Where's Miles?" she asked him.

"Outside in the car," he said tearfully. "Dad gave him a hell of a beating, then threw us out."

"What about Betty?"

"She's in the car as well," he said shamefacedly. "Look, I know it's a lot to ask but we need a place to stay. We've pooled our petrol in one car, and we've enough to get to Richmond. Miles and Mum said you'd never agree but, well"-he flushed-"well, I said you might and it was worth a try."

She let him stew in his own discomfort for several seconds. "I'll crucify you all if you do a damn thing in that house I don't like," she said crossly. "That means no mess, no gambling, no drugs, no drunkenness, and you bend over backwards to be nice to the Clanceys. Do you understand?"