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she was murdered.’
    ‘That’s why you infer the connection between Mary and this woman?’
    ‘I don’t have to infer any connection. It’s there. The two women knew each other.’
    ‘According to Declan Scott.’
    ‘He could be lying, yes, but I don’t see why.’
    Baumann rose and went to a cabinet of vaguely oriental design and painted a red so dark it was almost black. ‘Care for a drink, Superintendent?
    ‘No thanks. I’ve had at last count a dozen cups of tea.’ He hadn’t done a good job of insinuating himself into Baumann’s good graces; in fact, he’d come close to alienating him, so he said, ‘You’re a numismatist, Mr. Baumann. Those coins look pretty valuable.’ He smiled and tilted his head toward the outer office.
    Baumann poured a small gin into a Waterford tumbler. To Jury this was interesting. He would have expected whiskey. Gin before lunch. Jury believed that 75 percent of people walking around were alcoholics, perhaps including himself.
    ‘Ah. Are you interested in coins, Superintendent?’ He returned to the floating chair.
    ‘I really don’t know much about them. But I’ve been wondering what that one is you’ve been turning.’ It was an old coin encased in acrylic, serving as a paperweight.
    Baumann smiled and held it out. ‘I suppose this is my favorite: a Greek tetradrachms, which means it’s worth four drachma. That’s Alexander the Great. One of my favorite coins. I’ve only seen two of them since I began collecting.’
    Jury took it. lt didn’t surprise him that Baumann might feel some affinity with Alexander. The coin showed him wearing a lion’s head as a helmet. ‘Looks quite valuable,’ Jury said, handing it back.
    ‘Not really. It’s obviously extremely old, but that means little when it comes to value.’
    Jury, having returned himself at least in small measure to Baumann’s good graces, said, ‘I got us off the subject. We were talking about Declan Scott.’
    Baumann drank, set down the heavy glass. ‘I simply thought that one reason for Scott to lie might be to steer the relationship between himself and this woman away from himself by saying she was a friend of Mary’s. Then fabricating this story about having seen them together. There were no witnesses to this meeting, isn’t that what you said?’
    ‘We haven’t found one, no. But Declan Scott isn’t the only one who saw her - ‘
    Baumann interrupted. ‘But you just said there were no wit-
    nesses.’
    ‘Not to the meeting at the hotel, but later, when she came to the house. And it wasn’t Scott who saw her, it was the Scotts’ cook.’
    The way Baumann turned his empty glass in his hands and regarded it, it looked as if he wanted another drink. ‘Well, is the woman one of those longtime retainers who’d do anything for the Scotts?’
    ‘Are you saying she might be lying for him?’
    Viktor Baumann shrugged and set down his glass. ‘‘It’s possible, isn’t it?’
    ‘Highly improbable, though. I think this is an occurrence where Sherlock Holmes must be right: the most likely explanation is the simplest one.’
    ‘I couldn’t disagree more. You don’t seem to be open to all of the possibilities.’
    Jury said nothing, just waited for him to go on, which he clearly wanted to do.
    ‘You’ve been taken in by him, Superintendent. Declan Scott is very plausible.’ Baumann slapped the arms of his chair as prelude to rising from it.
    ‘I haven’t met Mr. Scott.’
    ‘Well, if you do, you’ll see what I mean. I’m sorry, but I have an appointment at ten.’ He moved to a cupboard, took out a coat.
    Jury had also risen and watched him buttoning the coat. It was a black chesterfield, single breasted, velvet collar. Jury hadn’t seen an overcoat like this in quite awhile, certainly not on his own back.
    Still on the subject of Declan Scott, Viktor Baumann said, ‘He’s too smooth for my tastes.’
    Jury laughed. ‘That’s just what someone said about you. The word used was