Gemma felt an instant's stab of pity for Kristin Cahill, who must have been as vulnerable as a moth flying too near a candle, and for poor Giles Oliver, who had had as much chance as a pug set against a greyhound.

Then Kincaid stood and, before Dominic's mother could get in an explanation, said, "Hullo, Dominic. My name's Duncan Kincaid, and this is Gemma James. We're from the Metropolitan Police, and we'd like to talk to you about Kristin Cahill."

"What?" Dom Scott looked from one to the other, and Gemma wondered if she had imagined the flicker of relief. What had he been expecting? "Look, I know she's a bit pissed off with me at the moment, but this is beyond funny." He came a few steps into the room, but stayed an uncommitted halfway between the sitting area and the door.

Oh, Christ, thought Gemma. If it was an act, he was very cool. But if not…"Dominic," she said quietly, "tell us when you saw Kristin last."

"Monday. Monday night. Look, what's this about? She's not returning my calls."

Kristin's phone had been found in her jeans pocket, crushed beyond recovery.

Kincaid took up Gemma's lead. "Tell us what happened on Monday night, Dominic. Where did you see Kristin?"

Ellen Miller-Scott glanced from Kincaid to Gemma, and the knuckles of the hand on her knee whitened. Dom took another hesitant half step forward, then ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "At the Gate. It was only a row. I can't believe she's complained about it. She was still on at me about Saturday night."

"What happened on Saturday?" Kincaid asked, as relaxed as if they were discussing what they'd had for tea.

Dom shifted and rubbed at his nose. "I-I stood her up. I was supposed to meet her at this club, and I-I never got there."

"And that's why you sent her the roses at work on Monday?" said Gemma.

"What? How do you-The roses were to say, 'Sorry.'" He glanced at his mother, as if gauging her reaction, then went on. "And she-Kristin-agreed to come out that night, but she was still being a bit of a cow about the whole business, if you want the truth. If she's gone and done something stupid-"

He stopped, perhaps reading something in their faces. "What aren't you telling me?" he said, his voice rising.

"And that's the last you saw of her? At the Gate?"

"I've just said-"

"You didn't see her home?"

"See her home? No. She left me sitting in the Gate like a stupid git, and I thought if she was going to be bloody minded, she could-" He stopped, and Gemma saw his chest rise with a sharp, frightened intake of breath as he seemed to realize something was very, very wrong.

Gemma rose, and out of the corner of her eye saw Kincaid give her a slight nod. She said, "Dominic, someone ran Kristin down on Monday night, in the King's Road. She's dead."

Dominic Scott stared at them, his dark eyes dilating to black. He lifted a hand, as if reaching for an invisible support, then crumpled to the floor as if someone had removed the bones from his body.

"First time I've ever had a bloke faint on me," Gemma said, her mobile connection sounding a bit scratchy in Melody's ear.

"Was he faking it, do you think?" Melody asked. She was still in Gemma's office, where she had been combing Internet and newspaper files for more information on Dominic Scott.

"No, I don't think so. He was really out for a couple of minutes, eyes rolled up in his head. Then he was disoriented when he came round. But I still wouldn't rule him out as a suspect. It might have been pure fright at the idea that we thought he was connected, or who knows, maybe he smacked her with the car and then convinced himself she wasn't hurt. I've seen stranger things."

Melody flipped through her notes. "That's a bit complicated, boss, as he's another one that doesn't drive, and has no car. He had his license revoked for drink driving, and the records show the Mercedes registered in his name was sold. Did you get anything else out of him when he came round?"

"No." Gemma sighed. "He seemed genuinely devastated. And his mum went into protective mode, so we said we'd take a statement when he was feeling a bit better."

"When he's had time to get his story straight, more likely. But if he'd said anything useful in those circumstances," Melody added, "she'd have the lawyers on you like flies.

"Ellen Miller-Scott has a history of undertaking litigation with anyone who crosses her, including her ex-husband, Dominic's father, Stephen. Apparently the marriage only lasted a couple of years. By the time she'd finished with Steve Scott, he was willing to give up all custody of Dominic and disappear without a penny. The last trace I could find of him, he was living in Canada, running an art gallery in some little village in Quebec."

"She must have been very persua-" Gemma cut out for a moment. When Melody could hear her again, she was saying, "…before we interview Dom Scott again, we need to check out his story. He says Kristin left him at the Gate, and that he stayed until closing.

"Melody, Duncan's asked Cullen to go along. Would you mind meeting him there? You've got Dom's photo, and besides, I'd like your take on the interview." She added, with some hesitation, "I wouldn't ask, but I've got to get to hospital…and Duncan's got to get home to the kids…"

"Of course," said Melody quickly, but she was torn between being flattered that Gemma wanted her opinion and annoyed at having to share the task with Doug Cullen. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was after seven. "I suppose I should go along now?"

"Cullen's on his way from the Yard."

Maybe she would beat him there, thought Melody, if she got her skates on. But before Gemma could disconnect, Melody said, "Listen, boss, about your mum…I-" Then she found that anything she had meant to say seemed trivial and useless, and she stuttered to a halt.

But there was a smile in Gemma's voice as she answered, "Yeah. Thanks."

By the time Gemma reached St. Barts, visiting hours were over and she had to bully the charge nurse into letting her into the ward, pleading she'd been delayed by urgent police business-which she supposed was true enough. The plus side to her tardiness was that her sister and father had gone, and her mum was awake, alert, and glad of the company.

"Hullo, love," said Vi as Gemma kissed her on the cheek. "How are you?"

"I should be asking you that." Feeling contrite, Gemma pulled a chair close to the bed. "I'm sorry, Mum. But there's this case…"

Vi smiled affectionately. "There always is."

"Never mind. Tell me about your day. I haven't talked to Cyn since this morning. Did you have more tests?"

"Oh, it's all a load of nonsense." Vi sounded exasperated, more like her usual self. "But the doctor's very bossy, and he says I have to start these treatments tomorrow."

So quickly? Gemma felt a lurch of fear. "Chemotherapy?" she asked, trying to keep her tone matter-of-fact.

"They say it's not so bad now," Vi said with determined cheerfulness. "And I'd much rather hear about your day than talk about mine. Tell me about your case."

So Gemma did, settling more comfortably in her chair and starting from the beginning, with Erika's request that Gemma look into the reappearance of her missing brooch, and ending with their interview that evening with Dominic Scott.