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us and tell us where she was?’
    Dale went over to him and gave him a hug. His sensitivity was one of his best traits. She doubted many men of his age, especially good-looking ones, would care much about what had happened to a girl who’d only been a friend.
    ‘Maybe we’ll find out soon,’ she said hopefully.

Chapter Three
    Just after three in the afternoon Becky the receptionist came over to Dale while she was giving a client a manicure. ‘There’s a policeman wants to speak to you,’ she said, her sharp features sharper still with pent-up curiosity.
    Dale smiled at her client, an attractive brunette in her fifties, and continued to paint her nails. ‘Don’t worry, he doesn’t want to arrest me,’ she joked. ‘And he can wait until we’re finished.’
    She turned to Becky. ‘Give him a coffee and tell him I’ll be five minutes,’ she said.
    The display of calm was completely false. Dale could barely manage to control her shaking hand to put a sealing coat on her client’s nails. ‘I expect you saw the story in the news about the woman found on Selsey beach suffering from memory loss?’ she said. ‘Well, I think she might be a friend of mine. I’m hoping this policeman can either confirm or deny it.’
    ‘Oh, you poor thing!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d run off and left me only half done.’
    ‘My clients are too important to me to do that,’ Dale said silkily, hoping it might get back to Marisa. But making that rather phoney statement reminded her that Lotte had always really cared deeply for her clients. On Christmas Eve on the cruise she had worked from seven-thirty in the morning till after nine at night without a proper break all day, just to get everyone’s hair done. Not for the tips it brought, but just to see her clients’ pleasure. She was unique; no other hairdresser cared that much.
    Dale fastened her client’s wristwatch for her and helped her into her jacket. ‘Sit for a while in reception and let your nails harden,’ she suggested. ‘Becky will get you a cup of coffee if you want one. And have a lovely time tonight. You won’t mind if I rush off now, will you?’
    The woman thanked her effusively and begged her to go. Dale sped off and was told by Becky that the policeman was waiting for her in the bar.
    The bar was closed until five so there was no one there but the plainclothes officer sitting by the window. He was in his mid to late thirties, with wide shoulders, light brown curly hair and a fresh complexion.
    ‘I’m Dale Moore,’ she said, holding out her hand. He smiled; his eyes were an unusual tawny colour. At any other time her heart would have leapt for he was very nice-looking.
    ‘Detective Inspector Bryan,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘I hope calling on you here didn’t upset anyone?’
    ‘I don’t care much if it did,’ she said, sitting down opposite him. ‘Now tell me. Is the girl from the beach my friend Lotte?’
    ‘Yes, she is; her father was able to positively identify her at the hospital,’ he said. ‘But she hasn’t as yet regained any memory – she didn’t even know her parents.’
    ‘So you don’t know how she got there, or what happened to her?’
    ‘We think it’s likely she jumped from a boat. She could of course have been pushed, but it’s all a bit mysterious as there were rope marks on her wrists and ankles. You wouldn’t expect anyone to remove the bonds if they were intending to push her in! There again, she could have just walked into the sea because she was in some kind of crisis. So until she remembers or we get information from other people who had seen her recently, we’re very much in the dark.’
    ‘Is she going to be OK?’
    ‘She is weak, suffering from hypothermia and exhaustion, but her loss of memory is the most troubling aspect.’
    ‘Can I do anything to help?’
    Bryan nodded. ‘I was hoping you might have some success in stimulating her memory.’
    ‘I’d like to