“What?”

“Well, I got the impression from Jenn that this Kate was a bit of a Nosy Parker, always asking questions, a busybody, wanting to know where she’d been and who she was with. Jenn said sometimes it was worse than being at home with her parents.”

Annie had had a flatmate like that once in Exeter, a girl called Caroline, who had even gone so far as to question her on what sort of birth control she used, and on what exactly went on those nights Annie didn’t return to the flat. And some of Caroline’s forays into Annie’s sex life smacked of digging for vicarious thrills; she never seemed to have a boyfriend of her own, and Annie guessed that was how she got her jollies. Not that Annie gave much away, or had even been up to anything, most of the time.

“Why didn’t she share with you?”

“Hounslow’s too far out for her, and I need to be here because of my work. I’d hate to have to drive to Heathrow and back every day from the city.”

“They didn’t get along, Kate and Jennifer?”

“I don’t mean that. You can get along with someone who’s not the same as you, can’t you, in general, even if some of their habits annoy you, as long as you keep a bit of distance?”

“True,” said Annie. “Sometimes it’s better that way.”

“That’s what they were like. They got along well enough. Kate kept the place clean and tidy, didn’t leave food to go rotten in the fridge, remembered to lock the door when she went out, didn’t make a lot of noise. That sort of thing. The things that are important when two people are sharing a common living space. They never had rows or anything. It’s just that Kate’s a bit bossy as well as nosy. Likes things just so. And she’s got a bee in her bonnet about smoking. I won’t even go to the house. It’s her prerogative, of course, but even so, you’d think people could be a bit accommodating once in a while, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose so,” said Annie. “What about boyfriends?”

“What about them?”

“Any problems there?”

Melanie pushed her hair back. “I think Kate got sort of put off men. She had a scare a while back. Thought she was pregnant, so Jenn told me. Anyway, I know nothing about her love life, or lack of it.”

“And Jennifer?” Annie remembered what Kate Nesbit had told her about Jennifer’s ex-boyfriend Victor, and she wanted to find out what Melanie knew about him.

Kate paused, seemed to come to a decision, then went on. “Jenn’s the serious type when it comes to love,” she said. “Last year, just before we went on holiday, she split up with someone she’d been seeing for three years and it devastated her. I could have told her it would happen, but you can’t do that, can you? I mean, Jenn was pushing him toward commitment, living together, maybe marriage, babies, and it was obvious in the end that she’d scare him off.”

“Is that what happened?”

“Yes.” Melanie laughed. “The holiday was supposed to be a cure. Get him out of her system. Get rat-arsed and shag lots of good-looking blokes.”

“Is that how it worked out?”

“No. Does it ever? Jenn read a lot of books, and I practiced my Italian on the waiters, who were all over fifty. There wasn’t one decent-looking bloke in the whole place. Most evenings we spent commiserating with one another over a couple of bottles of cheap Sicilian wine and most mornings we woke up with splitting headaches. Oh, and Jenn got sunburn on the second day. All in all, I’d say it was a bit of a farce.”

“And afterward?”

“She got over him.”

“And he her?”

“Not quite,” said Melanie with a frown. “Jenn told me that he’d pestered her once or twice, said he’d made a big mistake and asked her to give him another chance, that sort of thing. And he kept trying to phone her.”

“At work or at home?”

“Both.”

“When you say ‘pestered’ her, do you mean stalked her, threatened her, what?”

“She just said he pestered her.”

“Can you remember his name and address?”

“Not his address, no, but I’ve got it written down somewhere. Remind me before you go. I do remember he lives out Chalk Farm way. His name is Victor Parsons.”

“Was Jennifer involved with anyone else, after Victor?”

“I think so. Very recently.”

“Past few weeks?”

“Yes. Couple of months at the most. She was moving very cautiously. Anyway, I got the impression that she liked him a lot.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Sorry, she didn’t say. I mean, she didn’t really say very much about it at all; she was being very cagey. It’s just that I’ve known her for so long, you get to sort recognize the signs, if you know what I mean.”

“Do you think he might be married?”

“Married? Good God, I hope not. I mean, Jenn wouldn’t go with a married man, not knowingly. I told you. She was serious about love. Believed in meeting Mr. Right and settling down together forever. She wasn’t casual about that sort of thing.”

Annie wondered if Kate Nesbit’s suspicions were at all justified or were simply the result of Jennifer’s natural reticence when it came to affairs of the heart. “Do you know where they met?”

“At work, I should think. She hardly goes anywhere else, except with me.”

“Look, I know this is probably a bit of cliché,” Annie said, “but we do have to ask. Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to harm Jennifer? Has anyone at all ever made any threats against her?”

Melanie didn’t hesitate. “No,” she said, her eyes filling with tears again. “Jenn was a good soul, one of the truly good people.”

“You don’t know of any enemies she might have had?”

“She didn’t make enemies. If you ask me, this was one of those random attacks you hear about on the news, maybe a serial killer, someone who didn’t know her. Like that other girl, in the spring.”

“What about at work? Was everything all right there?”

“You’d have to ask them, but she never said anything to me about any problems. She liked her job.” She started to cry again. “I’m sorry. I just can’t get my head around it.”

Annie could think of no more questions anyway. She consoled Melanie as best she could and suggested she call a friend to come and stay. Melanie didn’t want to, said she’d be fine by herself, and despite the tears Annie sensed that she was probably tougher than Kate Nesbit. Besides, her parents still lived in Shrewsbury, so they could hardly get down to London quickly. Annie left her card with her mobile number, telling Melanie she could ring at any time for any reason, and walked back to the tube wondering why someone so sensitive, serious and special as Jennifer Clewes could have ended up a murder victim.

When Banks woke on Sunday morning to the sound of birdsong, his head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he had the distinct memory of something very odd having happened during the night.

He stumbled to the bathroom, drank two glasses of water and took three aspirin tablets, then returned to the entertainment room, where he had slept on the sofa. He picked up Roy’s mobile and found that the image was still there, and that it made no more sense in the light of day than it had during the middle of the night. He found the incoming call on the call list. It was listed only as “unknown.”

Banks examined the photo more closely. The foreground was out of focus, the figure blurred. Behind the slumped figure was what looked like a wall and Banks thought he could see the fuzzy outlines of letters written on it. There were no actual words he could read, but an expert might be able to glean something from it.

Was the man in the chair Roy? He could be, Banks supposed; the features weren’t clear, but the hair looked about right. If it was Roy, was this some sort of oblique way of informing Banks that someone had taken – had kidnapped – his brother? Would a ransom demand come soon?

The man in the photo could still be anyone, though, Banks decided in the end. Perhaps Roy himself had sent the photo. It could be a message of some kind, or a warning. On the other hand, it had been sent to Roy’s mobile, so was it intended for Roy, or did someone know that Banks had the phone? The latter thought didn’t do much to quell Banks’s fears for his brother. If someone already knew he was staying at Roy’s house and had Roy’s mobile, then he had better keep his eyes open and his wits about him.