"I don't think it would be a great idea to threaten that man. He may have been impressed by my connection with Susie. Whatever it was, I just mentioned your bills, sort of in passing, and he whistled up payment on the spot. The money's probably there by now."

Her face brightened; there's nothing like cash for cheering you up.

"That's great. I was going to have to pay someone off at the end of the month; now I won't."

Time for a reality reminder, I thought. "Don't be so sure. You're going to be in court tomorrow, and the charge will go public, even if the press can't report any details. You're going to have a hell of a job holding your clients in those circumstances."

Her sudden burst of optimism was hard to suppress, though. "Most of them will stick by me; I'm sure of that. And if I can announce that you've become a director, that'll convince people too, won't it?"

"Jesus, Alison, it wouldn't even convince me. What are my skills? I'm a ham actor, that's all."

"But they'll assume you're investing in the business." She paused.

"You wouldn't, Oz, would you?"

That was a shot I hadn't been expecting. I did some quick thinking.

"What are Capperauld's shares worth?"

"The auditor valued them at a quarter of a million."

"Fine, but now he's dead, and the business is in trouble. Offer his estate fifty grand, on my behalf, and I'll pick them up, with a formal agreement that you or the company itself will buy them from me at valuation in three years' time."

Her eyes narrowed. "You could make a tidy profit on that. When did you pick up the business brain?"

"Along the way."

"Why three years?"

"If you do go away, I reckon you'll be out in a year, eighteen months at the most. You draw no pay, other than what it takes to cover your mortgage, and we appoint a manager to run things during that period.

I'll supervise from a distance, and keep an eye on the cash. When you come out, you pick up the reins again, and at the agreed time, I get paid off."

"What about the bank? My manager's a grim-looking man; he frightens me a bit."

"No problem; I'll tell them to give you someone who doesn't."

"How can you do that?"

"I'm not without influence. By that I mean money; it's the only language these guys understand. I still do most of my banking in Edinburgh; I'll fix it for my guy to take over your account."

She looked at me as if she'd never known me. "First Torrent, now this; is there anything you couldn't fix?"

"I can't fix your problem with your late ex-fiance."

"I'll bet you could if you put your mind to it." There was a crafty gleam in her eye now.

"Listen, I am here to make a movie. I am being paid a hell of a lot of money for it, I'm still new to the game and it needs my one-hundred-per-cent attention. You want that problem solved, hire a detective."

"I don't know any detectives."

"You fucked one last night," I pointed out.

Alison did not appreciate that reminder. "Him!" she exploded. "Ricky!

After what he did, I wouldn't employ him if he was ..."

'.. . the last private eye on earth? Okay, do your time, if you have to. Ross might be a slippery bastard, but he is very good. You don't get to be a Lothian and Borders detective superintendent without being shit hot at the job. Okay, he set you up today and maybe he shouldn't have. But he took it hard when he got kicked off the force. I reckon he was trying to prove a point. Still, if you want help and he'll take it on, he's the man."

"It'll stick in my throat."

"An unfortunate remark, in the circumstances."

She giggled, then suppressed it, "Well, if you'll talk to him for me, I'll consider it. But where would he begin?"

"With the murder weapon. If you didn't do it, someone planted it in your flat. You didn't see any signs of a break-in, last Thursday or later, did you?"

"No; and I would have. All my windows secure from the inside, and I always double-lock my door when I go out."

"So how was it done?"

"David had a key."

"Didn't you ask for it back when he chucked you?"

"Yes, but he still had it. The killer must have found it and used it."

"Could be."

"Will that help?" she asked brightly.

"Who knows? But at least, it's a place to start."

Twenty-Six.

Ricky wasn't too keen to take the commission when I told him about it later that evening. In fact his exact words were, "No fucking way!"

He hadn't been totally pleased to see me when I'd rung his bell; I think he was still smarting over the way I'd rung it earlier on, when I found out he'd recorded my conversation with Alison. I didn't really feel like apologising for that, but I did, for her sake. "Sorry about that, mate," I told him, 'but if I hadn't belted you, she'd never have believed that I wasn't in on the act as well."

"You think that quick, do you?" he grunted, doubtfully, as he dug a couple of beers out of his fridge.

"Sometimes."

"That'll be right. I'm still not taking the job, though."

"Of course you are. Come on, Ricky, you can't turn down a challenge like that. I'll bet that somewhere inside that conniving head of yours there's a mad dream that your pal the new chief constable might reinstate you in the force. If you could pull off something like this .. .".

He looked at me scornfully. "There's no chance of that. Anyway, I told you; I'm making too much bloody money to even think about going back in."

"Fine. So clear Alison's name, then sell your story to a tabloid. You never know, Miles might even fancy it as a movie plot."

I saw pound signs rolling in his eyes like two-thirds of a one-armed bandit. "Maybe. But there's a problem, Oz; she fucking did it!"

"I don't think so."