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Girlfriends?
    “Are Jamie and Akiko an item?” he asked now. Lois shook her head firmly. “No, they are not!” she said. “It’s like saying that just because your assistant Christine spends a lot of time with you, you must be having it off together. The way some people’s minds work, honestly!”
    “Sorry, sorry! It’s a policeman’s job to ask questions, as you very well know. So if Akiko is not his girlfriend, is there someone else in his life?”
    “I have no idea! He’s away for months at a time, and we hardly ever see him. Obviously he wanted to come to Josie’s wedding, but I don’t suppose we’ll see him again until Christmas. If then. Anyway, what are you suggesting? Is he gay? He’s had plenty of casual girlfriends. Sometimes, Cowgill, it’s hard to see why you’re supposed to be such a supercop.”
    “Semiretired supercop,” Cowgill ventured.
    “Oh, all right. I give in. Jamie had a perfectly normal adolescence, had a number of girlfriends, none of ’em serious, and now when he sends us photos, there’s always a girl hanging on his arm. His dad says he can tell that Akiko is in love with him, but I think that’s just to annoy me. I can’t be sure. Satisfied?”
    “I merely wanted to know if you had been told anything about her background. As I said, we have failed to trace anything about her musical training up to now, but they’re still checking the smaller colleges in a wider area. We’ve traced her father’s business. He has offices in Japan and London, and a slightly unsavoury assistant named Parsons. But if she has a serious relationship with Jamie, then he is likely to know a bit about her private life. Could be a grudge theft. That’s all, Lois. I mean no harm. At least, not to the innocent.”
    Lois looked at her watch. “There’s still time for you to get a train to London and go to the concert. You might enjoy it.”
    “I suppose you wouldn’t like to come with me?”
    “You suppose right,” Lois replied, and then softened. “Maybe some other time,” she said.
    *   *   *
    W HEN L OIS WENT BACK INTO THE KITCHEN, D EREK WAS STILL there, rewiring the plug from Gran’s iron. As he bent over the kitchen table, Lois noticed a snag in the back of his jeans.
    “Derek, stay there a minute.” She pulled the plastic bag from her pocket and found the faded blue thread.
    “Hey! What are you doing? This is neither the place nor the time, Lois!”
    “Don’t be silly, Derek. I am just seeing if this thread matches. And it does, unfortunately.”
    “I hope you know what you’re talking about, me duck,” he replied, straightening up. “Because I certainly don’t. That’s a thread from my jeans, which I snagged when I was digging out marauding lupins.”
    “Right, so that was a blind alley,” said Lois, and threw the thread into the bin.

S EVEN

    T HE RAIN WAS STEADY, SPLASHING INTO DEEP PUDDLES IN the side streets off Oxford Street in London’s West End. A heavy thundercloud hung over the city, and Cowgill found it impossible to hire a taxi. He walked along, fortunately with an umbrella, but with his feet now sloshing about in his thin shoes. He had acquired a ticket for the recital to be given by Akiko Nakamasa and James Meade, starting at seven thirty. With time to walk the whole way from Euston station, he stepped out, hoping that he would spot a vacant taxi before his trousers were wet to the knees.
    “Hop in, sir,” a smiling taxi driver said, drawing up beside him. “What a night, eh? Where to?”
    “Wilmore Hall, please. I’m supposed to be going to a concert, but they may turn me away like an old tramp, too wet to sit down.”
    “Don’t you worry. If you’ve paid for your ticket, they’ll let you in. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
    Safely inside the elegant interior of the concert hall, Cowgill was pleased to find that he still had time for a warming whiskey at the bar. He perched on a stool and looked around. Chattering crowds were