‘Hello,’ said Pippa, from the doorway. ‘You must introduce me to your guest.’

‘Pippa, this is Detective Inspector Kamsky,’ I said.

‘Er, Detective Chief Inspector,’ he said. ‘Not that it matters particularly.’

‘And this is Pippa. She’s one of the many people who live here.’

Pippa’s eyes lit up and she came and sat at the table.

‘Be careful what you say,’ I said to Kamsky. ‘She’s also a lawyer.’

‘But a nice person anyway, I’m sure,’ said Kamsky.

‘Are you in charge of the investigation of the murders?’ said Pippa.

‘I’m heading the Ingrid de Soto inquiry. I’m in informal touch with the team working on the Margaret Farrell killing. As yet there’s no official connection between the two murders.’

‘Of course there bloody is,’ said Pippa.

‘What’s the connection?’ asked Kamsky.

‘Astrid,’ said a voice from behind. I didn’t need to turn round. Bloody Dario, bloody stoned. I could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. He opened the fridge, took out a beer bottle and flicked off the cap with his thumb. ‘You want to watch her. Isn’t there a rule about the person who reports a murder always being the prime suspect?’

‘It’s not exactly a rule,’ said Kamsky.

Dario sat down next to me and took a swig of his beer. ‘There’s motive,’ he said. ‘Peggy Farrell opened her car door in front of Astrid. And then that other woman. Making Astrid cycle all the way up Highgate West Hill. If that isn’t a motive for murder, I don’t know what is.’

‘This is Dario,’ I said. ‘Another housemate.’

Suddenly the room seemed to be full. The word of Kamsky’s presence had spread and everybody was gathering to have a look at him. Davy and Mel came in, hand in hand, revoltingly in love. Owen arrived and sat beside me. Even he couldn’t resist it. Leah, the hostess, pulled the cork out of a bottle of wine. She came forward with a clutch of glasses. She offered one to Kamsky and he nodded.

‘Aren’t you meant to say, “Not when I’m on duty”?’ asked Dario, then gave a bark of hilarity.

Kamsky looked at his watch. ‘I’m not actually on duty,’ he said. ‘Cheers.’

Now everybody pulled chairs up to the table and crammed around, as if it were a child’s party and we were going to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ and blow out the candles. Kamsky seemed rather bemused at being the centre of attention.

‘So how is it going?’ asked Mel. ‘I’m sorry to be nosy but I’ve never met a real detective before.’

‘Are you another housemate?’ asked Kamsky.

‘She’s with me,’ said Davy.

‘It’s difficult to keep track,’ Kamsky said.

‘You wait,’ I said. ‘It gets worse.’

‘Are you here to take statements?’ said Davy.

‘Why?’ said Kamsky. ‘Have you got something you want to say?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Davy.

‘But some people have,’ said Leah.

There was a silence. Kamsky shifted awkwardly in his chair. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

Leah looked around the table.

‘Is it true,’ she said, ‘that anyone who was near the scene when the murder happened should come forward?’

‘Well…’ Kamsky began.

‘Leah,’ said Miles, in a warning tone.

‘I just think that people should do what they said they would do.’

There was a flurry of voices around the table. Pippa held up her hand for silence. She spoke with an icy calm. ‘I wouldn’t have thought this was the time or the place but Leah has a fierce commitment to legal principle. Though the heavens fall. What she was hinting at was that I had a friend staying on the night of Peggy Farrell’s murder. He’s a little hard to trace but he will come forward and make a statement, if required. But this probably isn’t of much interest to you.’

‘What about you, Dario?’ said Leah, triumphantly.

The scene would have been comic if it hadn’t been so horribly embarrassing, with Leah turning the screw of humiliation tighter and tighter. Dario’s face had gone a fierce red. ‘Leah, I dunno, I…’ He stammered to a halt.

‘Dario, what’s the problem?’ asked Leah, brightly.

Miles flicked me an anxious glance, then flicked it away when he saw the expression on my face.

‘I need to be given a bit of time,’ Dario said. ‘It’s complicated. I’ve got to -’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ said Leah, got up and walked out of the room. We heard the sound of footsteps making their way loudly up the stairs. People exchanged puzzled glances around the table.

‘This isn’t typical,’ said Davy to Kamsky. ‘We usually get on quite well. There’ve been some personality clashes.’

‘You can say that again,’ said Dario.

There was another rattle of footsteps on the stairs, and a visible flinching as everyone waited for the tornado to arrive. Leah strode in. ‘This is from Dario’s room,’ she said, tossing something on to the middle of the table.

You could see the blood leaving Dario’s face, as if someone had pulled a plug. On the table was a small transparent polythene bag with something brown inside.

‘Dario has gone all shy,’ said Leah, ‘because shortly before Margaret Farrell died – very shortly – he was out on the front step with someone as yet to be contacted, doing one of his little dope deals.’

There was a terrible, terrible silence around the table. I’d already called her a cunt, so there was nothing left to say to her. I might have been tempted to hit her but a detective was present. I looked around the table at the shocked faces. I have a phobia about silences. Whenever one occurs, I have to break it. I looked at Leah. ‘Is that your plan?’ I said. ‘If you can get Dario arrested, you won’t have to pay him off?’

‘Grow up, Astrid,’ she said.

‘What did you say?’

Kamsky leaned over, picked up the bag and tossed it to Dario. ‘Try not to use too much of this stuff,’ he said. ‘It’s not just that it’s bad for you. People who smoke it become so boring. Look, I’m conducting a murder inquiry. If you’re dealing a bit of cannabis, I don’t care.’ He looked at Pippa. ‘If you’re sleeping with your best friend’s husband, I don’t care. What you need to do is come forward. If you know any witnesses, tell them to come forward as well.’ Kamsky stood up. ‘But not to me. This isn’t my inquiry. Tell them to contact DI Mitchell.’ He looked at me with a smile. ‘I suppose Miss Bell can give you his number.’

‘Won’t you stay for dinner?’ asked Pippa.

Was Pippa going to start hitting on him as well? Was there no limit? Was nothing sacred? But he smiled and shook his head. ‘You’re a lawyer?’ he said to Pippa.

‘That’s right.’

‘It sounds like this household could do with one.’

And with that he went and left us to it.

Chapter Fourteen

No one spoke. I could hear the cars in the street outside, the house’s ancient pipes grumbling, a blackbird chirruping in the garden. I could hear Dario breathing heavily. Leah’s painted nails tapped rhythmically on the table. I looked up at her: her face was smooth, unconcerned. I looked at Miles, but he was staring down at his hands, which were plaited together on his lap, and I couldn’t make out his expression.

At last Davy coughed nervously and spoke. ‘That was pretty clear,’ he said, ‘and no real harm done, eh, Dario?’ His voice trailed away.

Dario twisted his head. ‘What?’ he said. He sounded dazed. ‘No harm?’

‘I mean -’

‘Shut up, will you, Davy?’ interrupted Pippa. She put a hand on Dario’s shoulder and looked across at Leah. Even I was alarmed at the icy rage in her eyes. Leah, however, didn’t flinch. ‘It’s pretty clear, don’t you think,’ Pippa continued, ‘that Leah’s behaviour was unacceptable to the entire household?’

‘Who wants some whisky?’ asked Owen. ‘I do. Or I could do with some of Dario’s dope. Do you want to roll a joint, Dario?’

‘Unacceptable?’ said Dario, finding his voice. ‘That’s not the word I’d use. I’d say -’

‘I don’t think I should be here for this,’ said Mel, in a small voice. ‘It’s private, between you lot.’