'I'm putting the laptop in the safe. It's got the data from Martin Cheetham's hard disc on it, and I think it's probably the only evidence left of what he and Brian Lomax were up to,' I said.

'You've cracked it, then?' Bill looked eager and stopped chewing.

'I think so. The only problem is that it's hard to prove Lomax was actively involved with the criminal aspect of it. So I've got a little experiment in mind to sort it out one way or the other.' I crossed the office and pushed the frame of the print of Escher's Belvedere. The spring-loaded catch released itself and the picture swung back on its hinges to reveal the office safe.

'You want to enlighten me?' Bill asked as I keyed in the combination. The door clicked open and I cleared a space on the bottom shelf for the laptop.

'I'd love to, but I haven't got the time right now. I need to be in Buxton before six if this is going to work. Besides, this is not a tale you want to try and digest on a Friday tea time. The twists and turns in this make Yom Kippur look as simple as Space Invaders.' I closed the safe, then unlocked the cupboard that contains all our Elint equipment.

'I don't want you to think I'm being chauvinist about this, but you're not going to do anything dangerous, are you?' Bill asked anxiously.

'I wasn't planning to, no. Just a simple bit of bugging in the hope of picking up something incriminating.' I chose a directional bug with a magnetic base, and added the screen that indicates where the bug is relative to the receiver. I also helped myself to a couple of tiny radio mikes with integral batteries, each about the size of the top joint of my thumb, and the receiver that goes with them. The tape recorder was still in the Fiesta, so I'd be able to record anything I overheard. I screwed each mike into a plastic pen-housing that also contained a U-shaped length of wire which acted as an aerial.

Bill sighed. 'As long as you're careful. We don't want a repeat performance of last Friday night.' From anyone else, it would have sounded patronizing. But I recognized the genuine concern that lay behind Bill's words.

'I know, I know, the firm can't afford the insurance premiums to get any higher,' I said. 'Look, there's been no sign of anyone having another go. Maybe it was the real thing, a genuine accident. You know, someone a bit pissed or tired? Stranger things have happened.'

'Maybe,' Bill agreed reluctantly. 'Anyhow, take care. I haven't got the time to train a replacement.' He grinned.

'I promise. Like I said, just a simple bit of bugging, that's all.' I didn't want to upset him. That's why I chose not to tell him I was going out to find me a murderer.

24

Enchantments didn't. Enchant me, that is. There was something about their stock of expensive clothes that screamed "girlie'. I'd only ever have shopped there if I'd been deliberately looking for something that made me look like a middle-class bimbo. It wasn't so much mutton dressed as lamb, as 'little baby lambikins'. It was obviously what the locals wanted, since it certainly wasn't a style that came naturally to the fiercely elegant Nell Lomax. Today, her wavy brown hair tumbled round the shoulders of what looked to me like a classic Jaeger suit and blouse. She looked like an advert for one of those richly spicy perfumes that we career girls are supposed to love.

I'd drifted past the shop to check she was there, then I'd slipped out the rear entrance of the modern glass and concrete shopping arcade where the boutique sat uneasily between a butcher's and a shoe shop. A quick prowl round the car park revealed there was only one white convertible Golf there. On the pretext of tying my lace, I slipped the directional bug inside the wheel arch. Now I could keep tabs on Nell without sitting tightly on her tail.

Nell was sitting on a high stool behind the counter reading Elk. She glanced up when I walked in, but clearly didn't think a woman who would be seen out of doors in jogging pants, sweatshirt and ski jacket was the sort of person worth lavishing her personal attention on. I'd pulled my hair back and tied it in a pony tail, and now my bruising had gone down, I was back to my usual light application of cosmetics, so it's not really surprising she didn't recognize me as the smartly dressed, over-made-up private eye she'd come face to face with a few days before. Besides, a lot had happened since then to take her mind off my face.

As she read on, I browsed among the racks of over-priced merchandise, trying to imagine anyone I respected wearing any of these clothes. I did find one skirt my mother would probably have liked, but she'd have wanted to pay about a third of the price for it, and I can't say I'd have blamed her. Keeping half an eye on Nell, I worked my way round the shop.

Eventually, I approached the counter from the side, so I was close to her coat, which was slung over a chair, and to her handbag, on the floor at her feet. 'We need to talk, Ms Lomax,' I said, dropping on to the chair with the coat and letting my bag slide on to the floor next to hers.

She looked startled, as she was meant to. 'I'm sorry, I don't think I…?' she said.

'We haven't been introduced,' I said, leaning forward to open my bag. I took out a business card and handed it to her. While she was frowning at it, under the pretext of closing my bag, I slipped one of the radio mikes into her handbag.

'I still have no idea who you are, Miss Brannigan,' she said uneasily. Not a good actress; I could see the nervous flicker of her eyes as she lied.

We met in Martin Cheetham's office. The day he died,' I said. I leaned back and casually draped my arm over the back of the chair. I managed to slip the second mike into one of the deep pockets of her Burberry without taking my eyes off her face.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she replied with a nervous shake of the head.

I sighed and ran my hand over my hair. 'Ms Lomax, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. Martin Cheetham was your boyfriend. He did business with your brother. Very dodgy business, some of it. You were both at his house on the afternoon he died, something which I don't believe you've seen fit to discuss with the police. Now, I know about the double dealing with the land, I know about the mortgage frauds and I know how the money's been laundered. And I know why Martin Cheetham had to die.'

Nell Lomax's chic facade crumbled, leaving a frightened woman whose eyes couldn't keep still. 'You're talking rubbish,' she gabbled. 'I don't know what you're on about. How dare you – coming in here and talking about Martin and my brother like that.' Her attempt at defiance didn't even convince her, never mind me.

'Oh, you know all about it, Nell,' I said. 'What you don't know is that your lovely brother is planning to skip the country and leave you holding the sticky end.'

'You're mad,' she said. 'I'm going to call the police.'

'Be my guest. I'd be happy to tell them what I know, and to show them the proof. It's in a very safe place, by the way, so there's no point in trying to get rid of me like you got rid of Martin Cheetham,' I added.

'I think you'd better leave,' she said, unconsciously backing away from me.

'I came to deliver a message. Your brother and your lover conned my client out of five thousand pounds. They did the same to another eleven people in the same scam. I want that sixty thousand back before he leaves the country on Monday, otherwise the police will be waiting at the airport for him.' I indicated my card, which she was still clutching tight. 'You've got my number. When he's got the money together, tell him to ring me and we'll arrange a hand over.'

I picked up my bag and stood up. 'I'm deadly serious about this, Nell. You're in the frame too, don't forget. That should be a hell of an incentive to convince your brother to refund my clients.' I walked briskly across the shop. At the door, I contemplated kicking over a rail of clothes, but I decided the air of low-key menace was probably more effective than going over the top. I marched out, not looking back.