Breaker

'Why don't we invite them over,' he suggested, sensing her hesitation, 'and let them pat him while he's under control? It'll only take a minute or two.'

'All right,' she agreed halfheartedly, 'if you think it would help.' But it was against her better judgment. She had the feeling that once again she was being drawn into something she wouldn't be able to control.

It was after midday by the time PC Ingram returned to his car to find Maggie Jenner, Steven Harding, and the Spender brothers waiting beside it. Sir Jasper and Bertie stood at a distance, secure in the shade of a tree, and the aesthete in Nick Ingram could only admire the way the woman displayed herself. Sometimes he thought she had no idea how attractive she was; other times, like now, when she placed herself side by side with natural, equine, and human beauty, demanding comparison, he suspected the pose was deliberate. He mopped his forehead with a large white handkerchief, wondering irritably who the Chippendale was and how both he and Maggie managed to look so cool in the intolerable heat of that Sunday morning. They were looking at him and laughing, and he assumed, in the eternal way of human nature, they were laughing at him.

'Good morning, Miss Jenner,' he said with exaggerated politeness.

She gave a small nod in return. 'Nick.'

He turned inquiringly to Harding. 'Can I help you, sir?'

'I don't think so,' said the young man with an engaging smile. 'I think we're supposed to be helping you.'

Ingram was Dorsetshire born and bred and had no time for wankers in dinky shorts, sporting artificial tans. 'In what way?' There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice that made Maggie Jenner frown at him.

'I was asked to bring these boys to the police car when I made the emergency call. They're the ones who found the dead woman.' He clapped his hands across their shoulders. 'They're a couple of heroes. Maggie and I have just been telling them they deserve medals.'

The 'Maggie' wasn't lost on Ingram, although he questioned her enthusiasm for being on Christian-name terms with such an obvious poser. She had better taste, he thought. Ponderously, he shifted his attention to Paul and Danny Spender. The message he had received couldn't have been clearer. Two boys had reported seeing their mother fall from a cliff while using a pair of binoculars. He knew as soon as he saw the body-not enough bruises- that it couldn't have fallen, and looking at the boys now-too relaxed-he doubted the rest of the information. 'Did you know the woman?' he asked them.

They shook their heads.

He unlocked his car door and retrieved a notebook and pencil from the passenger seat. 'What makes you think she was dead, sir?' he asked Harding.

'The boys told me.'

'Is that right?' He examined the young man curiously, then deliberately licked the point of his pencil because he knew it would annoy Maggie. 'May I have your name and address, please, plus the name of your employer if you have one?'

'Steven Harding. I'm an actor.' He gave an address in London. 'I live there during the week, but if you have trouble getting hold of me you can always go through my agent, Graham Barlow of the Barlow Agency.' He gave another London address. 'Graham keeps my diary,' he said.

Bully for Graham, thought Ingram sourly, struggling to suppress rampant prejudices against pretty boys ... Chippendales ... Londoners ... actors ... Harding's address was Highbury, and Ingram would put money on the little poser claiming to be an Arsenal fan, not because he'd ever been to a match but because he'd read Fever Pitch, or seen the movie. 'And what brings an actor to our neck of the woods, Mr. Harding?'

Harding explained that he was in Poole for a weekend break and had planned to walk to Lulworth Cove and back that day. He patted the mobile telephone that was attached via a clip to his waistband, and said it was a good thing he had, otherwise the boys would have had to hoof it to Worth Matravers for help.

'You travel light,' said Ingram, glancing at the phone. 'Aren't you worried about dehydrating? It's a long walk to Lulworth.'

The young man shrugged. 'I've changed my mind. I'm going back after this. I hadn't realized how far it was.'

Ingram asked the boys for their names and addresses together with a brief description of what had happened. They told him they'd seen the woman on the beach when they rounded Egmont Point at ten o'clock. 'And then what?' he asked. 'You checked to see if she was dead and went for help?'

They nodded.

'You didn't hurry yourselves, did you?'

'They ran like the clappers,' said Harding, leaping to their defense. 'I saw them.'

'As I recall, sir, your emergency call was timed at ten forty-three, and it doesn't take nearly three-quarters of an hour for two healthy lads to run around Chapman's Pool.' He stared Harding down. 'And while we're on the subject of misleading information, perhaps you'd care to explain why I received a message saying two boys had seen their mother fall from a cliff top after using a pair of binoculars?'

Maggie made a move as if she was about to say something in support of the boys, but Ingram's intimidating glance in her direction changed her mind.

'Okay, well, it was a misunderstanding,' said Harding, flicking his thick dark hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. 'These two guys'-he put a friendly arm across Paul's shoulders-'came charging up the hill shouting and yelling about a woman on the beach beyond the Point and some binoculars falling, and I rather stupidly put two and two together and made five. The truth is, we were all a bit het-up. They were worried about the binoculars, and I thought they were talking about their mother.' He took the Zeisses from Paul's hands and gave them to Ingram. 'These belong to their father. The boys dropped them by accident when they saw the woman. They're very concerned about how their dad's going to react when he sees the damage, but Maggie and I have persuaded them he won't be angry, not when he hears what a good job they've done.'

'Do you know the boys' father, sir?' asked Ingram, examining the binoculars.