“What else is there?”

“Recently Roy’s become interested in private health care. I remember him talking about it. Look.” She activated a PowerPoint presentation that extolled the virtues, and profits, of investing in a string of cosmetic-surgery clinics. “He’s on the board of a chain of health centers, a pharmaceutical company, a fitness club.”

“It all sounds very dull,” said Banks.

“I told you so. But guess who’s the one with the Porsche.”

“No need to rub it in. Is there more?”

“A few market-research reports on health and hi-tech, the kind of reports you buy, the expensive kind.”

“I was hoping for a few names.”

“They’re here,” said Corinne. “Memos and letters between Roy and various directors and companies he was involved with. Julian Harwood, for example.”

“I’ve heard that name.”

“You might well have done. He’s quite big in the private health-care field these days. Directs the chain of clinics Roy’s involved with. Anything from cancer to breast enlargement. Actually, Roy and Julian have been mates for years.”

“Harwood’s not a doctor, though?”

“No, a businessman.”

“Have you met him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t sound impressed.”

“Maybe because that’s exactly what he sets out to do. Impress people. Frankly, I always found him a bit boorish, but it takes all sorts. It still doesn’t make him a crook, though.”

“So you don’t think there’s anything in there to suggest that Roy was involved in any sort of illegal or dangerous business ventures?”

“You can see for yourself it all looks quite kosher. I don’t know about dangerous, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just because it looks clean, that doesn’t mean the hi-tech companies he worked with weren’t selling illegal weapons guidance systems to terrorists, or that the clinics weren’t involved in genetic manipulation. Maybe the cosmetic-surgery clinics gave gangsters new faces.”

Banks laughed. “Like Seconds, you mean?”

Corinne frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s a film. Rock Hudson. A man gets a new face, new identity.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I suppose my point is that they’re not exactly going to announce things like that in letters six feet high, are they? It’s a wide-open world. You should know that. Even the most innocuous-looking enterprise on the surface can turn out to be a whole different matter if you dig a little deeper.”

Banks did know that, and it didn’t make him feel a great deal easier about Roy.

Corinne collected the pile of printed paper, put it in a folder and handed it to him. “Here. Be my guest.”

Banks picked up the folder, put it in his briefcase and stood up. “Thanks a lot,” he said. “You’ve been very generous with your time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Corinne. “Just find Roy.”

“I will.”

“When you do, will you let me know?”

“Of course. In the meantime, you take good care of yourself. If you think of anything else, or there’s anything you need, well… you can ring me on Roy’s mobile. He left it on the kitchen table. That’s how I got your number.”

Corinne frowned. “That’s not like him,” she said. “Not like him at all.”

“No,” said Banks, and left.

Annie hadn’t seen anyone faint since she was about nine, when one of the women at the artists’ commune where she had been raised keeled over in the middle of dinner. Even then, she overheard some of the adults talking later, and the general agreement seemed to be that drugs were the cause. In the case of Kate Nesbit, it was most likely shock, and perhaps the heat.

Remembering her first aid, Annie placed Kate’s feet on a chair to elevate her legs above heart level to restore the flow of blood to the brain, then turned her head to one side so she didn’t swallow her tongue. She leaned close and listened. Kate was breathing without difficulty. Lacking smelling salts – never, in fact, having seen or smelled any – Annie just made sure that Kate hadn’t cracked her skull when she fell and then went over to the sink to pour another glass of water. She found a tea towel, dampened it with cold water and brought it over with the glass, then she got another glass of water for herself. Kate was stirring now, her eyes open. Annie mopped her brow, then lifted her into a sitting position so she could sip the water. As soon as Kate said she felt well enough, Annie helped her back into her chair, then cleared up the broken glass before continuing the interview.

“I’m so sorry,” Kate said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“That’s all right. I’m just sorry I couldn’t find an easier way to break it to you.”

“But shot? Jenn? I can hardly believe it. Surely that sort of thing doesn’t happen to people like us?”

Annie wished she could say it didn’t.

“What was it?” Kate went on. “Robbery? Not… like that other poor girl?”

“Claire Potter?”

“Yes. It was on the news for weeks. They still haven’t found the man. You don’t think…?”

“We don’t know yet. Jennifer wasn’t sexually assaulted, though.”

“Thank God for that, at least.”

“Her things are missing,” Annie said. “Handbag, purse. So it could be robbery. Do you know if she carried much money with her?”

“No, never. She always said she could buy everything she wanted with her credit card or debit card.”

That was true enough these days, Annie knew. The only time people seemed to have a lot of cash on hand was when they had just withdrawn some from a cashpoint. “Look,” Annie went on, “you shared the flat with Jennifer. You must have been close. I know you’re upset, but I’m relying on you to help me. What was going on in Jennifer’s life? Men. Work. Family. Friends. Anything. Think. Tell me about it. There has to be an explanation if this wasn’t just some senseless random attack.”

“Maybe it was,” said Kate. “I mean, those things do happen, don’t they? People killing people for no real reason.”

“Yes, but not as often as you think. Most victims know their killers. That’s why I want you to think deep and tell me anything you know.”

Kate sipped some water. “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, we weren’t that close.”

“Did she have any close friends?”

“There was this girl she used to go to school with, up in Shrewsbury, where she grew up. She came around once or twice.”

“Can you remember her name?”

“Melanie. Melanie Scott.”

Annie definitely got the feeling that Melanie Scott wasn’t on Kate’s list of favorite people. “How close were they?”

“They went on holiday together last year. It was before Jenn moved in, but she told me all about it. Sicily. She said it was awesome.”

“Do you have an address for Melanie?”

“I think so. She lives in Hounslow, I remember. Out Heathrow way. I’ll be able to dig it out before you go.”

“Fine. What was Jennifer like?”

“Quiet, hardworking. And she really cared about people, you know. Maybe she should have been a social worker.”

In Annie’s experience, the world of social work was hardly staffed by caring people. Well-meaning, perhaps, but that was a different thing in her mind. “What about all those mysterious comings and goings?”

“That’s just me being silly, really. I like to know where people are and when they’ll be back. Jenn didn’t always bother to let me know. But she wasn’t a party girl, if that’s what you mean, or a clubber. I think she was actually rather shy. But she was bright and ambitious. Like I said, she cared about people. And she was funny. I liked her sense of humor. We used to watch The Office on DVD together and we’d both crack up laughing. I mean, we’d both worked somewhere like that. We knew what it was like. I’ll miss all that,” Kate added. “I’ll miss Jenn.” She started to cry again and reached for the tissues. “I’m sorry. I just can’t…”

“It’s all right,” said Annie. “Is that what you always called her? Jenn, not Jenny?”