Gemma raised an eyebrow. "Seems a bit unfair. Bryony, I know you said you were in and out with clients when Dawn came in last Friday, but did you see her when she left? I just had the impression, when I was talking to Gavin yesterday, that perhaps something had gone on between them."

Bryony looked uncomfortable. "It's not good politics to tell tales on one's boss."

"So there was something."

"I don't know what; I didn't actually hear anything except raised voices through the cubicle wall. But when Dawn left she looked furious. When I said good-bye, she didn't even notice."

"But you must have a theory as to what caused the row. Was there something going on between them?"

"Only in Gav's dreams! He always flirted with her and she took it good-naturedly enough, you know, without encouraging him. My guess is he went too far. Either that or she was less tolerant that day and told him she'd had enough."

Dawn had certainly had good reason to be less tolerant that day, thought Gemma, facing a doctor's appointment she must have dreaded, not to mention the sick cat-

"Sid!" she exclaimed. "I completely forgot about Sid!" Realizing how daft she must sound, she amended, "Sid's our cat. Will Geordie be all right with him?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine," reassured Bryony. "So far, I haven't seen anyone or anything that Geordie didn't like. I'd say the future of the relationship is entirely up to the other party."

"The kids will be thrilled, I'm sure, but I don't know what Duncan will say," Gemma confessed to Melody.

"Tell him the dog's a Christmas present. Then he can't complain without looking like Scrooge."

"You're devious," Gemma said, laughing. "Remind me to come to you for advice more often." She nodded at the sheaf of papers in Melody's hand. "Have you got something else for me?"

"The blood work's come back, boss."

"Anything helpful?"

"Inconclusive. More on the negative side than the positive, if you ask me. It looks like Arrowood picked up his wife, just like he said, but that doesn't prove incontrovertibly that he didn't hold her from behind first, until she bled out."

"Difficult to do without getting some blood spatter on his clothes. And if he'd dumped some sort of protective covering anywhere in the neighborhood, we'd have found it by now." Gemma tried to keep the discouragement from her voice- this was no more than she'd expected. Six days and virtually no progress.

"So what do we do now?"

"We keep working on the drug angle with Arrowood. Which means we talk to Alex Dunn again."

They found Alex Dunn at home, packing bubble-wrapped china into a box. He seemed tired, and edgier than he had on Tuesday. Gemma suspected that he'd come into the station buffered by a surge of adrenaline that had since worn off.

"This is a Sèvres dinner service I found for a client in Nottingham," he told them. "That's a good deal of my business, selling to private clients. I keep an eye out at auction for them, or pick up things from other dealers that I know they want."

Gemma found her eye drawn once again to the bright dishes she'd noticed on her first visit. "Is that pottery, or china?"

"Pottery. Made by a woman named Clarice Cliff, mainly in the twenties and thirties, the heyday of Art Deco. She started work in the potteries at thirteen, and by the time she was in her late teens she was designing her own wares."

Moving closer to study the pieces, Gemma saw that although they all had the same bright, bold look, there was infinite variation in the patterns.

"It's not really my field," Alex continued, "but I fell in love with the first piece I saw and I've been collecting it ever since. And Dawn loved it. I was going to give her that teapot"- he nodded towards a piece dominated by red-roofed houses against a deep yellow ground- "for Christmas."

"Is the pottery expensive?" Gemma asked, with a private sigh of regret.

"Very."

"Would Karl have noticed?"

"Yes. Anything to do with antiques, Karl noticed. And he would certainly be aware of the value of Clarice Cliff pottery, even if it's not the sort of thing he stocks in his shop."

"So Karl is successful because he's good at what he does?"

Alex gave her a puzzled look. "The antiques trade is no business for fools, and Karl has a particularly good eye for finding pieces that will bear a huge markup. Not to mention the connections with clients who can pay the markup."

"We've been told Karl has other clients- and other uses for his business- as in laundering the money he makes in drug transactions."

"Drugs? You're joking." Alex's bark of laughter died as he read their faces. "But that's daft! Why would Karl need to do something like that? He's got more money than God."

"Maybe you're putting the cart before the horse. Maybe the drugs came first, or at least simultaneously. Did Dawn never mention anything like that to you?"

"Are you saying Dawn was aware of it?"

"We don't know. That's why we're asking you."

"I'm the last person you should've come to. Apparently there were a lot of things Dawn didn't tell me." He stuffed a wrapped teapot into the box so violently that Gemma repressed a gasp.

"You knew her better than anyone," she said. "How do you think she would have felt about Karl's involvement in drugs?"

"A week ago, I'd have thought she'd have left him in horror if she found out." Alex said it savagely. "Now I'm not so sure. It's not the sort of thing we sat around and discussed. 'Oh, by the way, dear, how do you feel about drug trafficking?' "

"So what did you talk about?" Gemma asked. She needed to penetrate the bitter shell the young man had erected.

"Whatever you talk about with your significant other, assuming you have one. Food, music, movies, stupid television programs, the state of the world."

"But the problem with an affair is that you don't talk about the ordinary, everyday things, because you don't share them. What to have for dinner, the size of the gas bill, your child's cough."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Alex told her hotly. "Do you have any idea what I'd have given for even one day of conversations like that? You don't appreciate it, do you? Either of you?"

Gemma said softly, "No. You're right. I'm sorry."

"The funny thing is… She was so beautiful, the kind of woman men dream about. But it was the ordinary things I loved most about her. She had a passion for ginger ice cream. And flowers. They had a fortune in flowers delivered to the house every week, but she could go bonkers over a geranium in a pot on the patio, or a late rose blooming beside the pavement."

"But that's a good thing, isn't it?" said Melody. "That she had that capacity for enjoying life?"

"Is it? I'm not so sure." He stared at them belligerently. Then his anger seemed to dissipate and he knelt again beside his packing box. "Of course you're right. If I were a good person, I'd wish her every bit of joy given her by anything- or anyone- instead of envying what she might have shared with someone else.

"And what I said before, it was just the doubt eating at me. I knew her. Even if she didn't tell me she was pregnant, I'm absolutely certain that if she found out Karl was selling drugs, she would have left him in an instant."