I laid them down in silence and turned to Josh.

“You poor boy,” I said, and he started crying then, but trying not to: gulping and sniffing and gagging on his grief, and saying “Jesus” under his breath; hiding his head in the crook of his arm. I put a hand on his shoulder and waited, and eventually he sat up, fished in his pocket for a crumpled tissue, blew his nose snottily.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t,” I said. “It’s good she has someone to cry for her.”

“I ought to go now,” he said, gathering up the photographs and pushing them back into the envelope.

“Will you be all right?”

“Yeah.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I’ll give you my card so if you want to call me, you don’t have to look me up in the Yellow Pages again. Hang on.”

I went to my desk in the bedroom and Josh lounged in the doorway. He was so thin. He looked as if he would fall over if he didn’t have something to lean on. A pile of bones.

“You’re not exactly tidy,” he remarked. Lippy sod.

“True. I didn’t know you were coming, so I didn’t tidy up for you.”

He grinned in embarrassment.

“And your antique computer,” he observed.

“So I’ve been told.”

I rummaged in the drawers for my business cards.

“Are you on-line?”

“On-line? Not as such.”

He sat down and started tapping at the keyboard. He looked at the screen as if it were a porthole with something comical on the other side.

“How big is your hard disk?”

“You’ve lost me.”

“That’s what it’s all about. You just need more power. This is like a mosquito trying to pull a lorry. You need a system with proper memory.”

“Right,” I said, hoping he’d shut up.

“Faster hamsters.”

I found the card and brought it through, brandishing it.

“Here you are. Nadia Blake, children’s entertainer, puppeteer, juggler, magician, and general-” Then I froze. “What? What the fuck did you say?”

“Don’t be angry. It’s just that a computer is almost useless without proper-”

“No, what did you actually say?”

“I said you needed more power.”

“No. What fucking exact words did you say?”

Josh paused and thought for a moment and then for the first time I saw him laugh.

“Sorry, that’s just a stupid expression. Faster hamsters. It just means more power.”

“Where did you get it from?”

“It’s just a metaphor. It must come from hamsters running round on wheels, I suppose. I never really thought about it before.”

“No, no, no. Who did you hear it from?”

“Who?” Josh pulled a face. “Just a guy at our school’s computer club.”

“What? A pupil?”

“No, Hack, one of the guys who helps run it. He’s been really nice to me, since Mum died especially.”

I was trembling.

“Hack? What kind of name is that?”

“It’s his handle. It’s his nom de guerre.”

I tried to control myself. I gripped my hands together.

“Josh,” I said. “Do you know his real name?”

He wrinkled his brow. Please please please.

“He’s called Morris, I think. He knows about computers, but he’ll just say the same thing I’ve said.”

SIXTEEN

My hands were shaking so much I could hardly punch the numbers on the phone. I got myself put through to Links. I had discovered that if you were insistent enough, he always turned out to be in. He was wary and distant with me on the phone. I don’t think he’d quite known how to handle me since I’d absconded. He’d like to have charged me with something, no doubt, but it didn’t seem I’d broken any law. Still, he could be grumpy at least, from his position of weakness.

“Yes?” he said.

“I’ve just been talking to Joshua Hintlesham.”

“What?”

“He’s Jennifer Hintlesham’s son.”

“I know that. What are you doing talking to him?”

“He came round to see me.”

“How? How does he know who you are?”

If he had been within reach I think I would have leaned over and shaken him and rapped my knuckles on his skull, but he wasn’t.

“Don’t bother about that. It doesn’t matter. The point is, I’ve found someone we both know.”

“What do you mean?”

“The other day something went wrong with my computer and I called a number on some card and this guy called Morris came round and fixed it. It was actually very easy. I actually know sod-all about computers. And the other day, when I slipped away, I bumped into him in the street. He was very friendly. I didn’t think anything of it. But I was talking to Josh and he goes to a computer club that’s connected to his school. And one of the people who runs it is this guy called Morris.”

Now there was a long pause on the phone. That had given him something to chew on.

“Is it the same person?”

“Sounds like it.” I couldn’t resist adding: “It may not mean anything. Do you want me to do some checking?”

“No, no,” he said instantly. “Definitely not. We’ll do that. What do you know about him?”

“He’s called Morris Burnside. I think he’s in his mid-twenties. I can’t say much about him. He seemed nice, clever. But then I’m impressed with anybody who can switch a computer on. Josh liked him a lot. He’s not like some weirdo. He’s good-looking. He wasn’t shy or strange with me or anything like that.”

“How well do you know him?”

“I don’t know him. As I said, I just met him twice.”

“Has he tried to get in touch with you?”

I went through our meetings in my mind. There wasn’t much.

“I think he was attracted to me. I told him that I’d just split up. He half asked me out and I put him off. But there was nothing nasty about it. He offered to help me buy a powerful new computer. I said no, but that doesn’t seem enough reason to kill me.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“I’ve got his phone number. Is that all right?”

I read it to him off the card, the card I’d been so pleased to find just two weeks earlier.

“Fine, leave it with us. Don’t make any attempt to get in touch with him.”

“You’ll talk to him?”

“We’ll check him out.”

“It may be nothing,” I said.

“We’ll see.”

“It may not be the same person.”

“We’ll check.”

When I put the phone down I wanted to collapse in a heap, to cry, to faint, to be put to bed and looked after. But there was just Lynne, hovering like an annoying fly that I wanted to swat. She had been listening to my end of the phone conversation with growing interest. Now she looked at me expectantly. She wanted to be filled in. My heart sank. Sometimes it felt like having a live-in au pair without even having a child for her to look after. I needed to get out of here. Quickly, without even giving myself time to speak, I picked up the phone and dialed.

“You met him.”

Zach stopped, as if he couldn’t walk and think hard at the same time.

“When?”

“The other day. When you came round and this young man had fixed my computer. You met him when he was on the way out.”

“The one who wouldn’t take any money?”

“That’s right.”

“Sandy-colored hair.”

“No. Quite long dark hair.”

“Have you seen my hair?”

Zach stepped over and tried to look at his reflection in a shop window. We were walking along Camden High Street, in and out of shops, occasionally trying things on, not buying anything. Lynne was twenty yards behind, hands in pockets.

“It’s going,” he continued. “What I ought to do is shave it, if I had any integrity. What do you think?”

He turned his anxious face to me.

“Leave it as it is,” I said. “I don’t think a shaved skull would suit you.”

“What’s wrong with my skull?”

“As I was saying, it turned out that this guy, who’s called Morris, also knew the son of one of the women who was killed.”

“You mean he might have killed her?”

“Well, he’s the only connection we’ve found.”

“But he couldn’t have. I know I only met him for eight seconds, but he just seemed a normal person.”