Lorraine clicked her fingers to Tiger. 'Yeah, you go ahead and do that. Oh, that phone call Cindy denies making.' Decker nodded. He still felt awful about the recording.

'Cindy has quite a high-pitched voice. If she got hysterical, like she'd just shot her husband, it's likely her voice would go up a notch. Whoever made that call, if my memory serves me well, had quite a deep, almost throaty smoker's voice.' She gave him that cock-eyed, smug smile. He said nothing.

Lorraine still hovered at the doorway. 'Did Mrs Nathan come with a chauffeur?'

'I have no idea,' Decker said. As the door closed behind her he shut his eyes, tried to remember the voice. Had it been deep, throaty as she had just said? He could not remember.

According to the doorman in the main lobby, Cindy Nathan had walked into the building. He had seen no driver, and she had not left keys for the valet-parking facility. She had asked him which floor Page Investigations was on, and then used the intercom phone to the office. 'I'm sorry if I did anything wrong,' the doorman said apologetically.

'You didn't,' Lorraine replied, as she left, with Tiger straining at the leash. But she knew intuitively that something was wrong. Nothing quite added up. She felt good, though, and she was twenty thousand dollars better off. Page Investigations was up and rolling.

CHAPTER 2.

LORRAINE ARRIVED at the Nathans' mansion with her CD playing Maria Callas singing Madame Butterfly at full volume. The door was opened by a middle-aged Mexican maid who ushered her into the cool hallway and motioned her through an archway framed by a broad-leafed twining vine growing around two carved pine pillars. Looking up the floating stairs, Lorraine saw several modern art works. Whether they were valuable or not, she couldn't tell.

Through the archway was a shallow flight of pink polished granite steps leading down to the main living area of the house. Floor to ceiling windows gave it a lovely, light, delicate feel, and the room had been divided into a sitting space on one side and an area for formal dining on the other. There were large plain white armchairs and sofas, and one piece of 'art' furniture, a strange green and black chair with a round, stuffed base and padded back, which looked to Lorraine like a cartoon-style tea-cup or a fairground waltzer.

Cindy Nathan sat in the tea-cup, curled up like a child with a glass of orange juice cupped in her hands, rolling a clear plastic beach ball back and forth over the same six inches of floor with a tiny, tanned foot, drying the varnish on her toenails. 'Oh, hi, have you come to give me a massage?' she said brightly, getting up. Today she had her hair in Dutch-girl braids, high on her head, and had made up her eyes in a defiantly garish blue, her lips with raspberry frosting. She wore a yellow top with peasant-style embroidery and blue and yellow windowpane check pants.

Cindy's acting as she pretended Lorraine was a masseuse was as bad as it had been in her TV roles. She gestured for Lorraine to follow her into an adjoining room. It was a gym, very professional with weights, sit-up bars, medicine balls and leg stretchers. Close to a boxing punch-bag, in the centre of the space, was a row of different-sized gloves in bright red leather. 'I always used to call this Harry's toy cupboard. He was always in here when he was home, working out.'

'He must have been fit.'

'Yes, he was. Well, so he should have been. He spent enough time looking after his body.' She giggled, and covered her mouth. 'I reckon the reason he was so obsessive was . . .' she held up her little finger and waggled it '. . . he was kind of small. Some parts of the body you can never build up.'

Lorraine perched on one of the black leather-covered benches, irritated by the girl's innuendo. 'Did you kill him, Cindy?' she asked.

'No, I did not. I did not.'

Lorraine smiled encouragingly at her. 'Good. Now, can we talk in here or not?'

'Yes, it's safe.'

'Safe?'

'Ah . . . yes. Harry used to record stuff,' Cindy said, colouring slightly, and Lorraine had the impression that the girl had said something she hadn't meant to. 'But down here was his private place. Nobody came down here but him,' she chattered on. 'I used to have to go out to my classes he wouldn't let me work out down here.'

'What kind of thing did Harry record?' Lorraine asked.

'Oh . . . just conversations. He taped phone calls, and there were cameras in all the rooms in the house. For security, you know, the art.'

'You knew about that, though.'

'Oh, yes, I knew.'

Again Lorraine felt that Cindy wasn't telling the full truth, and she wondered whether the presence of a pornographer, an ex-actress and a large number of cameras under the same roof had had the inevitable consequence. 'He didn't make any other sort of recordings?'

'No,' Cindy said, a shade too quickly. 'He was just paranoid, even about personal things. I mean, he hated anyone to know he'd had a face-lift, and he dyed his hair plus he took his drugs down here.' It was a titbit thrown out to shift the conversation away from a subject Cindy clearly didn't want to discuss.

Lorraine asked, 'What drugs did he use?'

'Oh, stuff for body-building mostly. Sometimes he'd have a few lines of cocaine, but mostly it was steroids, or speed he was a real speed freak. But he was careful. He'd never over-indulge he always knew exactly what he was taking.'

'Did you take drugs?'

'Me?' Cindy gave a goofy grin, suddenly the little girl again, as if it were all a game. 'Oh, yeah, I'd do anything that was going, mostly cocaine. But I haven't touched anything since I knew about the baby. I've got to take care of myself. You have to when you're pregnant.'

Cindy gazed at her reflection in the mirrors, and Lorraine considered how to question her. She would like access to the tape recordings Cindy had mentioned. 'Can I just take you through the events up to your arrest?' she said.

'Sure. Do you want a drink?'

The girl's butterfly mind digressed into trivia either she didn't realize the seriousness of her situation, or she was trying to hold on to some kind of normality. She wandered off to a small kitchen area, tucked away at one side of the gym by the showers.

'Just water for me,' Lorraine said, following her.

Cindy opened the fridge and selected a can of Diet Coke for herself. She opened a cupboard and took out a glass. Having forgotten, it seemed, Lorraine's water, she opened the can and poured out the contents.

'Where exactly were you on that morning?' Lorraine asked, sitting down on a work bench and taking out her notepad.

'I was lying on the balcony, over there.' Cindy waved her hand. 'I fell asleep.'

'Would that be at the front of the house?' Lorraine asked.

'Sort of. There's balconies all over the house, but I kind of move around with the sun, you know, so I was on that one.' She pointed to indicate which side of the house she meant.

'And the swimming pool is where exactly?'

'Behind you,' Cindy said.

'Is there access from here to the pool?'

'Of course. Behind the mirrors, they slide back.'

'Right. So what time were you sunbathing?'

'Oh, the usual time.' She took a slug of her Coke, draining the glass.

'Yes, but I don't know your usual routine, so if you would just take me through it.' Lorraine tried not to sound irritated.

'Okay. I get up usually about nine, sometimes earlier, sometimes a lot later, shower, then work on my tan for a couple of hours just my body, I don't do my face.'

'Do the servants all know your routine?'

'Of course, I've been doing it since I got married get up, shower, sunbathe, swim, get dressed for lunch.'

Cindy started doing half-hearted t'ai chi exercises in front of the mirror.

'So on the day you discovered your husband's body, you were sunbathing as usual and you fell asleep. A loud noise woke you about what time would that have been?'

Cindy wrinkled her nose. 'Maybe eleven. I was asleep the first time, then I heard it again. At first I thought it was a car backfiring. It was just one loud bang. Then I saw all these birds flying up, from the garden by the shrubbery. You can't see the pool from the balcony, just the edge of the garden, so I called Harry, wondering if he was messing about.'

'Messing about?'

'Yeah. Sometimes he'd take pot-shots at the birds. It used to make me mad as hell, because once he killed one.'

Lorraine doodled on her pad as Cindy went into a long monologue on how she loved all of nature's creatures. Finally she interrupted, 'You know, Cindy, if you're found guilty of murdering your husband, you'll be locked up in a prison and you'll be hard pushed to hear a single tweet. Now I know it may be tedious, but I have to ask all these questions so I know exactly what I should-'

'I never killed him,' the girl said, red-faced with anger.

'I know you didn't, but you're to stand trial for it, unless-'

'I never killed him. I found him, that's all.'

'So, will you close your eyes and tell me exactly what you did, from the time the noise woke you to the moment you discovered your husband's body?'

Cindy covered her eyes with her hands. 'You mean, like creatively visualize?' Clearly this was something she was familiar with.

'Just tell me what happened.'

'After the bang, I called out his name,' Cindy began. 'When I got no reply, I picked up my towel, and my sun creams and my straw hat. I went into the bedroom and decided I'd have a swim. I didn't have anything on I sunbathe naked so I put my swimsuit on and got a big outdoor towel. Then I heard another bang I was pretty sure it was a gun this time, so I put on my mules and went downstairs . . .' She withdrew her hands from her face, and her big blue eyes stared ahead. 'I went to the pool and put my towel on the chair by the table. I saw Harry's towel, his sandals, and his cigarette packet. I looked around because one cigarette was smoked down there was a long line of ash on it.'

Cindy blinked, and Lorraine noticed that she was looking at herself in the mirrors again as she spoke.

'I was about to dive in so I went to the deep end. First thing I noticed was the water was kind of pink, and then I saw him. I called out his name he was lying face down, arms outstretched but I knew something bad had happened, and I started to scream. I screamed and screamed.'

'How long was it before someone came out to you?'

Cindy stared at herself and Lorraine had to repeat the question.

'I don't know, it seemed a very long time. Then Juana came out, with Jose just behind her, and she said to me, she said . . .'

For the first time since they had come into the gym Lorraine saw some emotion. 'She said to me, "Holy Mother, Mrs Nathan, what have you done?"'

Lorraine waited, watching Cindy closely. The girl's breathing had become irregular, and she was swallowing rapidly. 'Go on, Cindy. Then what happened?'

'Jose jumped into the pool, and he said, "She's shot him! She's shot him!'" She gulped air into her lungs, her chest heaving. 'They dragged him to the shallow end. I could see white bone . . . and they couldn't lift him out.' She shuddered.

Lorraine tapped her notebook. 'Go on.'

'They called the police, I guess.'

Lorraine looked up. 'But Cindy, you told me you called the police.'

Cindy blinked. 'Oh, yes, that's right. I did.'

Lorraine made a note that the call to her office had come in at just after eleven o'clock. If Cindy couldn't recall contacting the police, maybe she couldn't remember calling Lorraine either.

Cindy continued, 'I called Mr Feinstein, because the next thing the garden was full of people and someone brought me some brandy. I was still by the pool, but sitting on one of the wooden chairs, and all I could think of was that he'd been sitting where I was sitting, smoking that cigarette. Then Mr Feinstein said to me, "Cindy, they want to take you into the station to ask you some questions," and that it would be best if I got dressed.' Cindy began to twist a strand of her blonde hair through her fingers. 'I got dressed, I got my purse and my sunglasses, just like I was going out shopping or something, but I didn't put any make-up on, and then they took me to the station.'

'Do you recall the name of the officer who questioned you?'

'No.'

'Did Mr Feinstein come with you?'

'No, he came on later.'

'So you had no lawyer with you?'

'No, I was on my own.'

Lorraine jotted some notes, then looked up sharply as Cindy began to cry. 'They said they found my gun, they said I did it, but I kept on saying over and over that I couldn't have done it, that I wouldn't have done something that bad even if I said I would.'

Lorraine repeated, '"Said I would"?'

'Well, I told you, I was always threatening him.' Cindy's voice steadied a little, and her chin lifted. 'I was always saying I'd kill him, because he used to get me so mad. He could be so mean to me, I'd get mad as hell. I'd scream and shout and try to hit him, but he would just laugh, and that got me even madder, but I never meant what I said. It was just I was upset.' She dissolved into real tears again more at the memory of her anger and humiliation, Lorraine thought, than out of grief at her husband's death.

'I need a tissue,' Cindy said, sniffing, her dark blue mascara beginning to run.

Lorraine crossed to the shower area and headed for one of the toilets to get some tissue. She dragged off a length of paper and hurried back to the gym.

'I didn't do it. I wouldn't kill him, even though he got me madder than hell!' Cindy mopped her face, then blew her nose. 'I didn't kill him, did I? Please tell me I didn't do it.'

Lorraine bent down to her, in an almost motherly fashion. 'But you didn't do it, did you?'

Cindy wiped her face and blew her nose again, her voice a hoarse whisper. 'I don't know. You see, it's all blurred. I mean, I'd know, wouldn't I? I'd know if I hud done it. That's what you got to help me with, because I'm all confused.'

Lorraine straightened up. One moment Cindy had given her a detailed description of what she had done leading up to the discovery of the body, the next she was asking if she could have been the one to pull the trigger. It didn't make sense.

'You've just told me how you found the body, Cindy, so why are you thinking now you might have killed him? '

Cindy rocked forward, head in her hands. "Cos I can only remember going to the pool and seeing him in the water. Nothing before that. I do the same thing every day I mean, I could be just filling in the gaps.'

'But you said you heard the gunshot?'

'Yes, I know. I know I said that.'

'Are you telling me now that you didn't hear it?'

'Yes. No, I heard it, I'm not lying to you. I heard that one, but . . .'