"Well, the people he's staying with aren't on the phone. They're difficult to get a hold of. I'll get him for you."

"Well, okay," said McEwan, raising his eyebrows insistently, creasing his forehead into three deep parallel ridges. She thought he must make that face a lot. "But we need to see him today."

"I'll bring him down, I promise. Why was it so hot in the house?"

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"It's not usually that hot in the house."

He nudged Inness to make a note of it and turned back to Maureen. "So Douglas had his own key?" he asked diffidently.

"Yes."

"Did you let him into your house yesterday?"

"No, the last time I saw him was on Monday. He stayed the night and left in the morning before I got up."

"Did he mention anything to you about being threatened by anyone, arguing with anyone, being followed, anything like that?"

Maureen thought back over the night's conversation. He was tired when he came in, he didn't even kiss her as he came through the door. He took his shoes off and sat on the settee telling her the usual gossip, the usual moaning appraisal of the people he worked with. Nothing different. They didn't have sex. Douglas fell asleep a minute after getting into bed and Maureen lay wide-awake next to him and watched him dribble saliva onto the pillow. They hadn't had sex for five weeks. Douglas had begun to recoil when she touched him, he rarely even kissed her now.

"Not that I remember," she said.

McEwan scribbled something in a notepad. "And that was the last time you saw him?" he said, without looking up.

"Yeah."

"Except for this morning," observed Inness unnecessarily.

"Yeah," said Maureen, puzzled by his crassness. "Except for this morning."

"Now," said McEwan, "when you found the body this morning did you touch anything?"

Maureen thought about it. "No," she said.

"Did you go into the living room before you phoned us?"

"No."

"Did you go into the hall cupboard?"

"The shoe cupboard?"

"Yes," said McEwan. "The small cupboard in the hall, the one with the shoe box in it."

"No, I didn't go in there. I saw the body and phoned you immediately."

' 'Immediately'? At the scene you told Detective Inspector Inness that you sat in the hall for a while."

"Well, yeah, I saw the body and sat down in shock and as soon as I was able to stand up I got to the phone and called you."

"How long were you sitting in the hall?"

"I don't know, I was in shock."

"One hour? Two hours?"

"Ten minutes, maybe. Twenty minutes at the longest."

"And where were you sitting in the hall?"

"What difference does it make where I sat?" she said impatiently.

"Just answer the question, Miss O'Donnell."

"I was sitting directly across from the hall cupboard."

"And the door to the cupboard was…?"

Joe McEwan seemed to be trying to prompt her toward some meaningful statement about the state of the cupboard but she wasn't sure what it was. She shrugged. "I dunno, what? Broken?"

"Was it open?" asked McEwan. "Was it shut?"

"Oh, right, no, it was shut."

"Could you see into the living room from where you were sitting?"

"I could see some footsteps."

"How many footsteps could you see from there?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Two," she said. "I could see two but there were seven altogether."

McEwan looked at her suspiciously. "You seem very sure about that."

"I remember them because they looked odd. They weren't shuffled, there were no scuffs of blood at the heel, but they were too close together. It looked odd. Like someone had been walking funny."

"As if they were planked," said Inness quietly, looking at his notes.

His comment annoyed McEwan for some reason: he turned and looked at Inness. Inness realized his mistake and eyed McEwan a subordinate's apology.

"Why are you so interested in the hall cupboard?" asked Maureen. "Was there something in there?"

McEwan was evasive. "Never you mind what was in there."

Maureen ran her fingers through her greasy hair. "Would either of you have a cigarette I could blag?" she said.

She had come out of shock minutes before and was desperate for a fag. Her packet was in her handbag, on the bedroom floor.

Inness sighed and looked at McEwan as if to say Maureen was a chancer. McEwan didn't respond. With pronounced reluctance Inness took a packet of Silk Cut from his pocket and handed one to Maureen. He lit a match, holding it across the table. Maureen leaned over, sitting the cigarette in the flame. It crackled softly. She inhaled and felt the smoke curl warmly in her lungs, her fingers began to tingle. McEwan reached out suddenly, took a cigarette out of Inness's packet and leaned forward, lighting it from the ready flame. Inness seemed surprised. McEwan inhaled and grimaced. "Now," he said, looking at his cigarette accusingly, "I'm afraid we can't allow you to stay at your own house for a while. Is there anyone else you can stay with?"

"Oh, aye," said Maureen, "loads of places."

"I mean, we'll need the address you'll be staying at so we can find you if we need to."

"I might be able to stay with a pal in Maryhill but I'd have to check with him first."

"That would be handy," nodded Inness. "It's just up the road."

"Yeah," said Maureen, wanting desperately to see Liam or Benny or Leslie, or anyone familiar and alive. "Can I nip up the road to ask him?"

McEwan gave her a hard, determined look. "No," he said. "I'd prefer it if you stayed here."

"I really want to leave for a while and come back."

"I want you to stay. We'll be receiving information all the time and it may be important for me to check things out with you."

"I want to go," she said firmly. "I want to get some fags and something to eat and have a think."

"We can bring you food and cigarettes."

"I want to have a think."

"What have you got to think about?"

"I just want to get the fuck out of this building for a while," she said, becoming agitated. "The lighting in here is making my eyes hurt and I'm tired, all right?"

"I want you to stay," he said, leaning on the table and exhaling smoke slowly through his nose. "We can keep you here for up to six hours if we have some reason to suspect you've broken the law."

Maureen leaned forward. They sat head-to-head, each reluctant to sit back and relinquish the space to the other. "Are you arresting me?" she asked.

"I don't need to arrest you to keep you here."

"I haven't done anything."

"It's not that simple," said Inness.

Joe McEwan was getting very annoyed, his eyes narrowed and his forehead creased indignantly. He must be very unused to being defied. Maureen thought about his ex-wife and wished her well. He stood up, shoving the chair away noisily with the backs of his knees. He leaned over and opened the door. The policewoman was standing outside: he ushered her into the interview room and left, slamming the door behind him.

"Have we got to wait for him to come back?" asked Maureen.

"Uh-huh," said Inness, fiddling with the Biro, tapping it softly on the table.

"How come there's always two of you?" said Maureen.

Inness looked up. "Corroboration."

"What's corroboration?"

"We can't use any evidence that's witnessed by one person. There have to be two officers present at all times in case we hear something important."

"Oh."

After an infinity McEwan came back in. "You can go," he said, looking disgusted and angry. "But I want you back here in two hours, is that clear?"

"Yes," said Maureen, pleased to be getting her way.

He leaned over the table and told the tape that it was eleven thirty-three, that the interview was being suspended and that he was turning it off. He flicked the switch and turned back to Maureen. "You know," he said, his voice louder than it need have been, "I really think if you wanted us to find the person who murdered your boyfriend you'd cooperate more fully."