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finding her in the throes of another coughing fit.

When I have fetched water and she is breathing easily, I say, ‘I suppose you know about the phone message?’

‘Phone message?’

‘Dumitru wasn’t with Ruby in the canoe that night because he had a message to go back to work. You must know that.’

‘Oh, yes.’ The tone is dismissive but she is watching me.

‘The call from the hotel went to the theatre and was picked up by – whom?’

‘It was Milo. So? What’s the big deal?’

‘Come on! You know it’s a big deal. Someone else was in Ruby’s canoe that night because Dumitru wasn’t there and Dumitru wasn’t actually needed at the hotel and doesn’t know who called. It sounds like the call was a hoax, Eve, so the police must be very keen to hear from Milo what the voice sounded like, and if he can’t give them a helpful answer then their next move is to wonder whether there was a call at all, or whether the hoax was all Milo’s.’

‘And why would he do that?’

‘I don’t know, but if they suspect Colin then they will be wondering if Milo was persuaded to help him.’

Eve puts down her water glass and stands up. ‘Well. I’m surprised at you, Gina Gray, the big detective, that you can be making assumptions before you have all the evidence. There was someone else in Ruby’s canoe that night – there are witnesses to that – but the someone was not my husband, who was seen ushering people about on dry land and is, anyway, a very large man whose size would have been conspicuous. And it was not Milo in that boat either. He was backstage with me, shifting scenery – and it’s not just me saying that – others were there too. So you’ll need to do better than that.’

The last words are said as she disappears into her studio at the back and I feel that I have been dismissed but I follow her anyway.

‘If I don’t have all the evidence it’s because people aren’t telling me what they know – you especially. If you’d told me about Milo I could have talked to him already. And you say someone was seen in Ruby’s canoe with her – well, what did people say about him?’

‘Nothing, really, as far as I know – a lad in a costume and a mask, but I just hear the rumours, don’t I? I don’t sit in on the police interviews.’

‘No, you don’t.’

But I know a man who could, I think.

‘All right,’ I say. ‘I’m on it. Watch this space.’

As I walk back to the hotel I think about Dumitru. The mystery phone call has to be the key to what happened that night, but could Dumitru have set it up himself? There is probably somewhere near the theatre where his phone would have worked. Could he have made the call and then sped back to the theatre to get the message from Milo? But Milo would have spotted a foreign accent wouldn’t he, even if he didn’t recognise Dumitru’s voice? I need to talk to him but he doesn’t want to talk to me.

When I get to the jetty, the ferry has just pulled in and a trio of boys, fresh off it, I assume, is swarming around Freda, who has her sketchpad stowed away in her shoulder bag. I recognise Milo and Fergus, and I think the other boy may be the ferryman’s son – I saw him this morning helping people onto the ferry. I watch warily – I don’t want to get caught watching – and I am impressed by Freda’s poise. She is certainly better with boys than I was at thirteen, and better than Ellie and Annie were, I think, but I suppose that comes from being at a mixed school. Two girls come running down from the hotel to join them, and the imperious cry of the older one – ‘You rotters! Why are you so late?’ leaves me in no doubt that these are the posh girls, Dominic Fenton’s daughters, whom Freda has mentioned.

So, is the gang all here? I wonder. Except, of course, for Ruby.

They look happy enough. If Freda’s moodiness this morning was because of the dynamics here, she is hiding it well.

I turn away to mingle with the crowd streaming off the ferry and up to the hotel for lunch, and as I turn I bump into a tall man who is striding past me. He turns to apologise, I look up at him and say, ‘Colin!’

This is a moment I have been dreading. I never got a chance to talk to Colin after I shopped him to the police. I never thought I needed to apologise but I never explained either. I have no idea how he feels about me, but with Eve as angry as she is there is a good chance that he is holding a grudge too. He looks down at me, grave-faced and then, unexpectedly, bends to kiss my cheek.

‘You’re looking very svelte, Gina,’ he says, ‘but this is parka country, so a little city polish goes a long way.’

He surveys me, almost as though I am back in his surgery. ‘And you look well,’ he says. ‘Are you?’

‘I am.’

I’m looking at him. Is he well? Yes, I think. He looks far less changed than Eve does, in fact. He is still upright, head and shoulders above everybody else around us, His face is thinner, but not gaunt, and though his hair is white there is plenty of it. He still looks, in fact, like a recently retired, successful professional man.

‘And are you as well as you look?’ I ask.

‘Oh yes,’ he says, but I notice now the tension around his eyes and I read anxiety in the frown lines.

I think he may see me noticing because he adds, ‘Tricky time at the moment. Police want to have a third chat with me. I can’t help thinking they may be going to

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