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nothing you can tell me that may be helpful to our investigation? And this isn’t just someone dropping litter, remember. A man you used to know has been killed.’
    ‘I realize that. I’m terribly sorry and shocked about that. But, no, I can’t think of anything that would be helpful. You’ll just have to ask Frieda.’
    It was what they all said:
ask Frieda
.
    ‘This must be difficult for you,’ said Hussein.
    Frieda was pouring tea and didn’t seem to hear. She put a coaster on the table in front of the detective and put a mug of tea on it. Then she took a sip from her own mug. ‘In what way?’
    ‘Alexander Holland was someone you cared about and –’
    ‘Can you call him Sandy? I never knew him as Alexander. It makes him sound like a stranger.’
    ‘Of course. Sandy was someone you cared about and he’s been murdered.’
    ‘One thing I’ve discovered,’ said Frieda, ‘is that whensomething happens, people want to become a part of it. If someone has a tragedy, then other people want to grab some of it for themselves, as if it happened to them as well. This wasn’t my tragedy. It was Sandy’s and his family’s tragedy. Can we take it as read that I’m deeply shocked by what’s happened?’
    ‘That sounds a bit cold.’
    ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve never been good at crying for the cameras.’ She paused for a moment, then added, ‘I know that I probably appear cold to you. But, as you know, people react very differently to distress and anger. They tend to make me withdraw into myself and appear harsh.’
    ‘All right. Thank you.’
    ‘I was explaining, not apologizing.’
    ‘They said you were difficult,’ said Hussein, who felt nettled and wrong-footed.
    ‘Who’s “they”?’
    ‘Commissioner Crawford. He told me about his experiences working with you. And Professor Bradshaw.’
    Hussein was surprised by Frieda’s response. She didn’t seem angry or discomfited. Just curious.
    ‘How did that come about?’
    ‘Your name’s on our computer. And Crawford thought he should brief me about you.’
    ‘That explains things.’ Frieda smiled thinly. ‘This. You being here.’
    ‘It explains nothing. Alexander –’ She stopped herself. ‘Sandy Holland has been found murdered. He had your hospital identification tag on his wrist. You were in a relationship with him. Of course I need to investigate you. Of course I need to ask you questions.’
    ‘So ask a question.’
    ‘Had you been in contact with the deceased?’
    ‘I hadn’t seen him properly for months.’
    There was a pause. ‘Would you like to elaborate on that?’
    ‘In what sense?’
    ‘You said, “seen him properly”. I said “contact”. And I’m not at all clear what you mean by “properly”.’
    ‘I’ve glimpsed him.’
    ‘Glimpsed?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘That’s all?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You mean he just happened to be passing and you saw him out of the window? Out of a bus? Walking by on the other side of the street? At the house of a mutual acquaintance?’
    ‘I saw him a few times near where I sometimes work.’
    ‘The Warehouse.’
    ‘That’s right. I go there twice or three times a week.’
    ‘But you didn’t talk to him.’
    ‘No. Or, at least, no more than a word or so.’
    ‘When was the last time that you saw him?’
    ‘A couple of weeks ago, perhaps. I can’t remember precisely.’
    ‘A couple of weeks? The first week of June.’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    ‘You can’t remember the exact date?’
    ‘Not off the top of my head.’
    ‘His sister last saw him on Monday, June the ninth. Was it after that?’
    Frieda considered. ‘I usually work at the Warehouse on Tuesdays and I think it might have been the Tuesday of that week.’
    ‘No later?’
    ‘I don’t think so. I’m almost sure not.’
    ‘So that would be Tuesday, June the tenth. A Dr Ellison apparently rang the police to say he seemed to have disappeared. No one took her concerns very seriously. That was on June the sixteenth, six days