Dark Room

'Are you saying they'd still be alive if I hadn't laid a guilt trip on her?' asked Josh harshly.

'I don't know, sir. I think we need some idea of where they were on the Monday before we come to any conclusions. I mean, it's you who put pressure on them to delay their departure.' Fraser looked at the other man closely before continuing. 'As things stand, I only have your word for it that she and Leo didn't come here as promised.'

*19*

WEDNESDAY, 29TH JUNE, 53 LANSING ROAD, SALISBURY - 12:00 P.M.

Flossie Hale examined the newspaper clipping with the Franchise Holdings emblem. 'Oh, yes,' she said, 'no question, that's the key ring all right.' Next she turned her attention to the grainy faxed photograph of Miles and Fergus Kingsley in the members' enclosure at Ascot, and after a brief hesitation, planted her finger on a face. 'That looks like him, but it's not a very good picture, is it love? I don't recall his hair being as dark as that. The jacket's similar.'

'What about the man next to him?' '

She held the page away from her, half closing her eyes, as if looking at an impressionist painting. 'The trouble is, you don't look at their faces much, not when they're punching you. You're too scared. Yes,' she said with sudden decision, stabbing at Miles again, 'that's him all right. Little bastard. I said butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Who is he then?'

'His name's Miles Kingsley.' WPC Blake retrieved the photograph and tucked it into her bag. Samantha Garrison had also picked out Miles, and if neither woman had been quite as decisive as Blake would have liked, she put it down to the poor quality of the photocopy and postponed her niggling concerns over whether or not this could ever result in a successful prosecution. If Flossie had been more cooperative at the start, allowed them in to dust for fingerprints or let them take swabs, they would have something more concrete to work on.

'Well, I don't understand it,' the older woman was saying. 'How'd you turn what I told you into a blooming photograph of someone with the initials M.K.?'

'Just luck, Flossie. He's a bit of a playboy, this creep. If you're interested, the photograph was faxed through to us from The Tattler. You got done over by one of society's best. His dad's a multimillionaire.'

Flossie shook her head. 'It makes you wonder what the world's coming to. What's he doing trawling Salisbury for cheap old tarts like me if he can afford the high-class ones in London?'

Blake couldn't answer that.

THE STUDIO, PIMLICO, LONDON-1:00 P.M.

Dean Jarrett was effusively helpful. 'Well, of course, dear,' he told Fraser, ladling out the charm while sussing him coolly from the corner of his eye. He thought this policeman looked less of a homophobe than most; might even, if the friendly smile was anything to go by, be tolerably sympathetic towards Jinx and her bizarre entourage at the studio. Certainly, he had taken Angelica's pink hair in his stride and appeared unfazed by Dean's flirting. 'I can give you a blow-by-blow account of everything Jinx did from Tuesday the thirty-first until Friday the third. But after that, it's a complete no-no, I'm afraid. She was at Hell Hall the next week, and we didn't hear a dicky bird out of her-didn't expect to, of course, because she was on her hols-and then she did a vanishing trick on us. Angelica phoned and phoned on the Monday, when she was supposed to be here, and all she got was Jinx's answering machine.'

'That would be the thirteenth of June?'

'It would. And then, on the Tuesday, we heard the awful news that the poor mite was unconscious in hospital somewhere. I suppose you've seen her. Is she all right?'

His face contorted itself into a moue of concern, and Fraser nodded reassuringly, even if he did find the moue less than sincere. 'She seems fine, a bit hazy about what happened, but otherwise very alert and very composed.'

'Isn't she amazing!' said Dean. 'Quite my most favorite lady.'

'Yet you haven't been to see her,' said Fraser dispassionately, 'or not as far as we know. Is there some reason for that?'

The moue vanished abruptly. 'Yes, well, unlike the Josh Hennesseys and Simon Harrises of this world, who both tell me they've inflicted themselves on her, I prefer to wait for an invitation. Imagine the awfulness of feeling like death and having well-meaning friends impose themselves on you. Jinx is a very private person. Half the time I think she's completely ignorant of how much we all adore her; the other half I retreat into my little shell because I'm afraid the truth is we bore her rigid.' He sighed. 'In any case I didn't know where she was for ages. Her brute of a father wouldn't tell me.'

'Still, I'm surprised she wasn't worried about the studio.'

Dean gave a squeak of distress. 'How crushing you are, Sergeant. Don't you feel the poor darling has rather more pressing concerns at the moment than leaving her business in the hands of the second-best photographer in London?'

Fraser's lips twitched. 'What did you think of Leo?'

'He was absolutely dire. A real leech, but could Jinx see it? You know what the trouble is, she's blinkered when it comes to a pretty face. Falls for the outside, and forgets that what's underneath is more important. It's her father's fault. He looks like an old vulture and he's always been so damn distant with her that she assumes a pretty face means a pretty personality.' He rolled his eyes to heaven. 'I hate to say it, because he's a very rude man, but I actually think Adam Kingsley is probably worth ten Leo Walladers. If the number of phone calls he's made checking up on me and Angelica is anything to go by, he cares about Jinx a great deal more than she's ever given him credit for. My God, if we'd thought about letting things slide, which we haven't, he'd have been round here tearing our innards out.'

Fraser grinned. 'You've met him then?'

'I was introduced the first time he paid one of his terrifying visits,' said Dean with a shudder, 'as was Angie. But as I'm gay and she's black, it was hardly the social event of the century, washed his hands afterwards in case he'd caught something. On all subsequent visits, he has grunted rudely in our direction and swept through to talk to Jinxy in private.'