‘Is there anything else you know, Josef?’ asked Chloë. ‘Is she OK for money?’

‘I think,’ he said.

‘What can we do?’ Reuben asked moodily. ‘We don’t know where she is. We don’t know what she’s up to. We can’t contact her.’

‘We’ll have to follow Josef,’ said Olivia. ‘Put a trail on him.’

‘I? No!’

‘But what would she do?’ repeated Jack, tugging at his disordered hair. ‘She’d do something, I know she would. And so should we.’

‘Has anyone talked to Karlsson?’ asked Chloë.

‘Poor sod.’ Reuben poured himself another glass of wine. ‘He’s in trouble as it is. It’s complicated, being Frieda’s friend.’

Detective Constable Yvette Long had to pull Karlsson out of an interview.

‘It’s the commissioner,’ she said.

‘All right.’

‘Your car’s outside. You need to go in a minute.’ She looked at her watch. ‘In fact, now.’

‘Where to?’

‘The Altham station.’

‘Altham?’ Karlsson frowned. That was where Hussein was based. ‘Have they found Frieda?’

‘Not that I’ve heard. Shall I come along?’

‘If you like. You might draw some of the fire away from me.’

They didn’t speak again until they were in the back of the unmarked police car.

‘Did he say anything?’

‘Who?’ said Karlsson. ‘The commissioner?’

‘The cabbie. I’m talking about our case. Did he confess?’

‘He didn’t say a single word. He didn’t even look me in the eye.’

‘But we’ve got the DNA. And the girl’s statement. That should be enough.’

‘It’ll just take longer. And she’ll have to give evidence.’

Karlsson didn’t seem interested in talking. He just stared out of the window.

‘Any idea what this is about?’ Yvette asked.

Karlsson didn’t answer.

‘She shouldn’t have done this,’ Yvette continued. ‘She’s just causing trouble. She …’

Karlsson looked round at her and something in his expression made her stop.

‘Coffee?’ said Commissioner Crawford.

An office at Altham police station had apparently been cleared and prepared for him, almost like a royal visit. On a conference table there was a flask of coffee, a jug of water, a plate of biscuits and a bowl with apples and tangerines and a bunch of grapes. Detective Chief Inspector Hussein was sitting on the other side of the table. In front of her was a glass of water, a file and her phone. Karlsson and Long helped themselves to coffee and sat down. The commissioner took his own coffee, added two lumps of sugar and stirred them in. ‘How’s your rape case going?’

‘We’ll charge him later.’

‘Excellent.’ The commissioner smiled. Yvette found his affability more alarming than the briskness and impatience she was used to. ‘See? It looks like you can manage well enough without your friend.’

Yvette looked at Karlsson. She saw his jaw flex slightly. She recognized the signs and felt a sudden lurch. Was Karlsson going to say something? But he didn’t speak immediately. He picked up his coffee cup with great care and took a sip.

‘I was pulled out of the interview,’ he said at last. ‘Is something up?’

‘I suppose this is a bit painful for you.’

‘In what way?’

The commissioner’s expression changed from warmth to one of concern. ‘Your special adviser going on the run like this.’

‘It’s unfortunate,’ said Karlsson.

‘Don’t you want to know how the search is proceeding?’

‘How is it proceeding?’

‘It’s not,’ said Hussein.

There was a pause.

‘At this point,’ said the commissioner, ‘you’re supposed to say something like “What a pity” or maybe make a suggestion.’

‘All right. I’ll make a suggestion. As well as looking for Dr Klein, I think you should be exploring other angles.’

The commissioner’s face reddened. Yvette knew what was coming.

‘There are no other angles. Frieda Klein absconding was a clear admission that she did it.’ He paused. Karlsson’s failure to answer made him even angrier. ‘Well?’

‘Frieda didn’t commit the murder,’ said Karlsson. ‘But if she had done something like that, she would own up to it. She wouldn’t go on the run.’

‘As you well bloody know, she already did kill someone and she didn’t own up to it.’

‘She didn’t kill that person either.’

‘Of course she did.’

‘If she had done it, there was no reason to deny it. It was a clear case of self-defence.’

Crawford pushed his cup away. ‘Coffee break’s over,’ he said. ‘DCI Hussein and I have some questions for you.’

‘What questions?’

‘Have you had any contact with Frieda Klein?’ Hussein asked.

‘No.’

‘If she contacted you, what would you say?’

‘I don’t normally answer hypothetical questions. But I’ll answer that one: if Frieda contacted me, I would ask her to give herself up.’

‘Why?’ said Crawford, with what was nearly a sneer. ‘Haven’t you read the file? Your friend is almost certain to be convicted.’

‘Because it’s the law.’

‘It’s a pity you didn’t manage to persuade Klein before she disappeared.’

‘I’ve never managed to persuade her of very much.’

‘You know her,’ said Hussein. ‘Have you got any suggestions?’

‘Not really.’

‘That’s not much help,’ said the commissioner.

‘I guess she’ll be avoiding anywhere she normally goes.’

‘We missed her at that hospital. Why do you think she went there?’

‘To see her patient, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but why?’ asked Hussein.

‘Didn’t you interview him?’

‘He wasn’t very coherent. He’d been horribly beaten up and injured. His fingers had been smashed and some of them chopped off. But, as far as I can tell, she asked questions about how he was, where he’d been, who had hurt him, that sort of thing.’

‘So she was concerned about him.’

‘Mm. But it’s an odd thing to do, isn’t it, go somewhere she knew she might be recognized in order to show her concern?’

‘I don’t know. It’s the kind of thing Frieda might do.’

‘What about her friends?’

‘What about them?’

‘Do you think they’re helping her?’

‘You need to ask them.’

‘It’s not just a matter of asking them. I’m also asking you. What do you suspect?’

Karlsson thought for a moment. ‘I think her friends would help her if she asked them. And I don’t think she would ask them.’

‘You’re her friend,’ said Hussein.

‘She hasn’t asked me.’

‘If she did, how would you respond?’

Commissioner Crawford looked at his watch. ‘Fun as this is, we don’t have time for a discussion about hypothetical situations,’ he said. ‘I’m confident that DCI Karlsson will contact us about anything we need to know. Meanwhile we have an appointment.’

Karlsson and Yvette stood up and began to leave but the commissioner smiled and shook his head. ‘You’re coming too, Mal,’ he said.

‘Where?’

‘You know the old saying: when all else fails in an investigation, hold a press conference.’

‘I didn’t know that saying.’

‘It starts in five minutes and it’s a chance for you to show that you’re a part of the team.’

‘Is it something I need to show?’

‘And you,’ said the commissioner, pointing at Yvette, ‘you can stand at the back and learn something.’ He gestured to Karlsson to follow him, and as he turned away, Yvette mouthed something at his back.

‘By the way,’ said Hussein, as Crawford led them through the corridors, ‘another friend of yours will be joining us onstage.’

‘Who’s that?’ said Karlsson, and as he said the words he had a sudden sick feeling as he realized what the answer would be.

The Pauline Bishop Suite was named after a policewoman who had fallen in the line of duty and today it was almost full. Lights were being set up and there was an expectant, bustling murmur. Yvette edged her way along the back. She felt a sense of apprehension as if she were about to watch a play that she knew hadn’t been properly rehearsed. There was a flash of lights and they filed up onto the platform: the commissioner, Hussein, a tense-looking Karlsson, and Professor Hal Bradshaw, in a sombre grey suit, white shirt and dark tie that made it seem as if he were in charge of the whole operation. They sat down and his expression was serious and thoughtful.