‘Yes, I do.’

‘Good. Do you know where she is?’

‘No.’

‘Or might be?’

‘No.’

‘Did you know she was planning to abscond?’

‘No.’

‘Who else would Dr Klein turn to?’

‘I don’t know. She’s a very independent woman.’

‘When I met her, there was a man with her, a foreigner.’

‘You mean Josef?’

‘Yes, that was his name. Who is he?’

‘A friend of Frieda’s. A builder. He’s from Ukraine.’

‘Why would someone like that be a friend of Frieda Klein?’

‘Is that an insult to Ukrainians or to builders?’

‘How can I reach him?’

Reuben thought for a moment, then took out his phone, checked it and wrote the number on a piece of paper. He pushed the piece of paper across the table.

‘Who else might help her?’

‘Am I meant to name names, so that you can go around and threaten them?’

‘You’re meant to obey the law. Does she have any close relatives?’

Reuben shook his head. ‘One brother lives abroad, another out of London, near Cambridge. She wouldn’t turn to him and he wouldn’t help her if she did.’ Reuben checked his phone again. He reached back for the piece of paper and wrote a name and number. ‘She’s got a sister-in-law she sees quite a bit of. Olivia Klein. You can waste some time talking to her.’

Hussein took the piece of paper and stood up. ‘You were her therapist,’ she said. ‘I thought people told their therapists everything.’

Reuben gave a short laugh. ‘I was her therapist years ago and even then she only told me what she wanted to tell me.’

‘I know you don’t care what I think,’ said Hussein. ‘But a man has been murdered and your Frieda Klein has gone off on some self-indulgent meltdown. She’s wrecking a murder inquiry, breaking the law, and for what?’

Reuben stood up. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I don’t care what you think.’

Olivia Klein also lived in Islington, further east but still less than a mile from Sandy’s flat. When she opened the door and Hussein identified herself, her eyes filled with tears. When Hussein mentioned Sandy’s name she started to sob and Hussein had to lead her into the living room, propping her up and then settling her down on the sofa. She went through to the kitchen and found a box of tissues. Olivia pulled them out in handfuls, wiping her face and blowing her nose.

‘I can’t tell you what Frieda’s done for me over the years. She’s saved me. Completely saved me. When David left, I was just completely … I mean totally …’

Her words turned back into sobs. ‘And then my daughter, Chloë, went through a terrible time, she was a complete bloody tearaway, and Frieda helped her with her schoolwork and talked to her. She even put her up for a while, which deserves some kind of a damehood.’

‘I suppose she needed a father.’

‘She needed a fucking mother as well. I wasn’t any good to her. With Sandy, I really thought she’d finally found someone and then it went wrong and then this. It’s so …’

Her face disappeared into her tissues once more.

‘Mrs Klein …’

‘I don’t know anything. I didn’t really know Sandy well and I haven’t seen him for a year. Two years. A long time anyway.’

‘It’s not that.’

‘Then what is it?’

Hussein was almost reluctant to begin because she knew what was going to happen. But it didn’t. When she described Frieda’s disappearance, Olivia just seemed so shocked that Hussein didn’t know if she was taking it in. She looked like a child, with a blotchy pale face, who had cried and cried so much that there were no tears left.

‘Why?’ said Olivia, in a small voice that was hardly more than a whisper. ‘Why would she do that?’

‘I was hoping you could tell me.’

‘How could I know? I’ve never known why Frieda does things, even after she’s done them.’

‘She’s done this’ – Hussein said each word slowly and clearly so that there was no mistake – ‘because she knew she was about to be charged with a very serious crime.’

‘But you can’t think that she did it. It’s not possible.’

‘We need to be very clear,’ said Hussein. ‘If you know anything about this, if you’ve helped Frieda in any way, then you need to tell me. That’s very important.’

‘What, me?’ said Olivia, suddenly speaking loudly. ‘I don’t even know how to work the DVD player now that Chloë’s at college. Every time I want to watch something, I have to phone Chloë up and she talks me through it and I still don’t remember. You think Frieda would turn to me to arrange an escape? I’m a drowning woman. When you look at me, you’re looking at a woman who’s literally drowning. Sometimes Frieda has rescued me and pulled me to the shore and then I’ve fallen in again. But I can tell you that, if Frieda had turned to me, then I would have done anything for her that I could.’

‘It would actually have been a crime.’

‘I don’t care. But she wouldn’t turn to me because she’s got too much bloody sense.’

The house in Belsize Park looked like it was being demolished from the inside. There were four skips lined up along the road. Old planks and plasterboard and cables were being carried out of the front door. Meanwhile scaffolding was being unloaded from a van and assembled around the façade. Hussein had to be issued with a hard hat, and Josef summoned from somewhere deep inside. Hussein had become used to the strange reactions of people when they had to deal with the police, but when Josef appeared in the doorway and noticed her he just gave a slow smile of recognition, as if he had been expecting her. She followed him into the house and he led her right through and into the large, long back garden.

‘It seems like a big job,’ she said.

He looked up at the rear façade of the house as if he were seeing it for the first time. ‘Is big.’

‘Looks like they’re taking it apart.’

‘Gutting. Yes.’

‘Expensive.’

Josef shrugged. ‘You spend fifteen, twenty million on house, then two or three more is little.’

‘Not for me.’

‘Me also.’

‘We’re looking for Frieda. Do you know where she is?’

‘No.’

She waited for him to elaborate, to protest, but he simply stopped as if he had said all that needed to be said.

‘When I met you with Dr Klein, I felt like you were there as some kind of back-up.’

‘Friend. Only friend.’

‘I read the police file on Dr Klein. Your name appears in it.’

Josef seemed to smile at the memory. ‘Yes. Funny thing.’

‘You were badly hurt.’

‘No, no. It was small thing.’ He made a gesture on his arm and a puffing sound.

‘You know that Dr Klein is now a fugitive?’

‘Fugitive?’

‘On the run. We want to arrest her.’

‘Arrest?’ He looked startled. ‘Is bad.’

‘It’s bad. It’s very serious.’

‘I must work now.’

‘You’re Ukrainian?’

‘Yes.’

‘If you know anything at all about Frieda Klein’s whereabouts, or if you’ve helped her in any way, you’ve committed a crime. If so, you will be convicted and you will be deported. Understand? Sent back to Ukraine.’

‘This is …’ He searched for the word. ‘Threat?’

‘It’s a fact.’

‘I’m sorry. I must work.’

Hussein took a card and handed it to Josef. He looked at it with apparent interest.

‘If you hear anything, anything at all,’ she said.

When Hussein was gone, Josef stood in the garden for several minutes. When he went back inside, he found Gavin, the site manager. Then he walked out of the front door, along the avenue and turned right on Haverstock Hill. He walked down the hill until he reached the hardware store. The large, shaven-headed man behind the counter nodded at him. Since the job had started, he’d been in there every day. The delivery was ready. Josef took out his phone and checked the time.

‘Back in half-hour,’ he said.

He came out of the shop and crossed the road into Chalk Farm station. He took a train south, just one stop to Camden Town. He exited the train just as the doors were closing. He looked around. There was almost nobody on the platform, except for a party of teenagers, probably heading for the market. He came out of the station and walked north up Kentish Town Road. He reached the steps off to the left and walked down to the canal. He could see the market ahead of him but he turned left away from it, under the bridge. As he walked along, he saw the occasional runner. A cyclist rang a bell behind him and he stepped aside. Ahead, he saw a canal boat chugging towards him, an old, grey-bearded man steering it from the stern. Josef stood and waited for the boat to pass him. The brightly coloured curlicued decorations made him smile. The man waved at him and he waved back. Ahead of him, he saw a familiar silhouette, standing under a bridge.