Framlingham held out his hand. 'Can't say fairer than that, I suppose.'

On the kerb, he fished into his pocket and took out an envelope with Elder's name on it. 'Had a call from that Shields woman this morning. Heard I was seeing you. Biked this over. Asked me to be delivery boy.'

Elder stuffed the envelope out of sight.

'Safe journey, Frank. Take care.'

There were still a good twenty minutes to go before boarding and Elder bought a coffee from the Costa by platform 1, sat down at one of the tables outside and took out the envelope. When he opened it, a ticket slipped loose on to the table top. Dee Dee Bridgwater at the Jazz Cafe. A Saturday in March. Karen had written on the back: A bit of a long shot, but if you happen to be in town…

Elder drank some coffee, stuffed the ticket back inside the envelope and tore them both in half, regretting it the instant it was done.

'Idiot,' he said and an elderly woman, going past with a suitcase on wheels, turned her head and smiled.

The ticket was in two pieces but taped together it would probably be okay. He pushed the halves down into his top pocket, just in case.

There were still ten minutes before his train.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks are due to my editor, Susan Sandon, for reading the manuscript with her usual sagacity and for suggestions without which the finished book would be a lesser thing. My thanks go also to my agent, Sarah Lutyens; to Justine Taylor at Random House (UK) for holding a more than steady fort; to Mary Chamberlain for precise and sympathetic copy editing; to Mark Billingham for providing the answers to certain crucial questions at crucial times; to Sherma Batson and Sarah Boiling for reading earlier versions of the manuscript; and finally to everyone at Random House for their friendship and support.

John Harvey