"You go somewhere?"

"Downstairs. To talk."

"About the independence or because you don't like the certificates?"

"Yes."

"Why not? Give them your benefit. But don't be out all night."

Gina and Angelo sat in the living room. They were finally beginning to relax after the case that had occupied them for months. And made them a lot of money. "Cheers." Angelo offered his gla.s.s.

"Cheers." They clinked wine gla.s.ses, not the first time in the evening.

Rosetta came in. "Join us." Angelo held up the wine bottle.

"No Sally?"

"Not yet. You have something? Tell us."

Rosetta sat and Angelo poured.

"What do you think of computer dating?" Rosetta asked.

He looked at her as if she'd asked his opinion of holidays on the moon. But Gina said, "It seems like a good thing, if you're reasonably cautious."

"Thank you," Rosetta said with a nod.

"That's what you've been doing since dinner?" Angelo asked. The idea of putting personal things on a computer made him shiver.

"No. I've been going through the doc.u.ments from the Jonathan Aloysius flat."

Gina said, "And you've found something?"

"Jonathan Aloysius has an income. Or, more accurately, incomes. Every month seven deposits go into his account and only one is the salary from his job."

The room's door opened. David's head peeped around it. "Is he back yet?"

"Go to bed," Gina said.

David bowed with mock respect. "Yes, oh ancient one." He left.

"Cheeky," she said with a fond smile. "Go on, Rose."

"And eleven payments leave his account every month."

"Payments?" Angelo said. "For what?"

"Named people. No indication of what they're for."

"For how much?"

"About half the value of the non-salary deposits."

"Usually, regular payments ..." Angelo frowned. "They'd be mortgages or credit cards."

"There's a mortgage payment," Rosetta said. "And he uses a credit card but he pays that off each month."

"Hmmm."

"And he has five-figure savings. I can't tell where most of that money came from, though. During the period I have records for only a little has been added to savings."

"Low five figures? Not life-changing but ..." Angelo lifted his gla.s.s. "Enough to celebrate, from time to time. Here's to savings."

"Savings?" the Old Man said as he came through the door. "Savings I happily celebrate."

When Salvatore returned at 10.30 he found Rose, Gina, Angelo and his father waiting for him. "Wow. A welcoming committee."

Gina said, "David wanted to be here too. But I beat him with a stick and sent him to bed."

"What? No Marie?"

"I think she fell asleep learning lines."

"I bet David's listening outside the door," Angelo said.

"He'd better not be," Gina said. Then louder, "He'd better not be!"

"So," the Old Man said, "you told this Polly that her Aloysius Jack plans to kill her?"

"No, Papa. I just showed her the marriage and death certificates."

"And did she know about the other weddings?" Rosetta asked.

"The five additional wives were news to her."

"And their deaths," the Old Man said. "Don't forget their deaths."

"And, of course, she didn't know about them either," Salvatore said. "Jack told her he was a widower. Polly couldn't swear he ever said he'd only been married once. But even if he cloaked the words to avoid telling a literal untruth, she certainly feels that he has lied to her about all this."

"And misled her," Rosetta said.

"She must feel terribly betrayed," Gina said.

"So how did she react when you told her?" Angelo asked.

"She went quiet."

"A lot to take in."

"I offered to make her a cuppa or pour something stronger but she didn't want anything."

"Did you offer to stay and comfort her?" Rosetta asked, with raised eyebrows.

In fact Salvatore had offered to stay. But to his sister he said, "No, no." He wasn't proud of his willingness to take advantage of Polly's vulnerability.

"Tell me something else," the Old Man said.

"What, Papa?"

"All of these married dead women, they share a registrar ..."

"Beverley Norbury."

"But did they have the same death doctor?"

"Doctor?"

"To sign for the natural cause of these married deaths."

"I haven't had a chance to study the certificates for that." Salvatore looked at Rose.

"I didn't either," she said. "I concentrated on the bank records."

"Because," the Old Man said, "this certifying is well and good for history and for weddings that aren't white, but if Aloysius Jack was murdering them, he had to murder them past a doctor."

The others looked at each other.

"To murder them all past one doctor is one thing, but past six different doctors? That's hard, unless his method is perfect."

"Where are our copies of the certificates?" Salvatore asked Rosetta.

"In my room. I'll get them. But it also makes me wonder if any of the payments Jonathan Aloysius makes each month are to doctors."

"Payments?"

"Money he pays every month to different named people. We can compare the names with those on the certificates."

Angelo said, "Polly won't confront Jonathan Aloysius tonight, will she, Sal?"

"I don't think so. When I left she was going to take a sleeping pill. I asked her to ring me in the morning. It's not like she's in immediate danger. Unless he shows up at her door at midnight and drags her off to Gretna Green."

"Gretna Green wouldn't work anyway," Gina said. "He only gets married with his favourite registrar."

"Six wives, all dead?" the Old Man said. "Even the famous Henry VIII couldn't match Aloysius Jack for that."

Salvatore slept over in case Polly Mainwaring rang the office line in the morning. Although he had given her his mobile number and told her to ring at any time.

Before he went to bed, he and Rosetta went through the names on Appleby's bank records. None matched that of a doctor on a death certificate. And to answer his father's question, five doctors had shared the six causes of death, one having two. Salvatore couldn't think of anything unreasonable about that.

Less reasonable was Rosetta's asking what he thought of online dating sites. "Refuges of the desperate," he said immediately. "Does anybody post an up-to-date picture?"

"Really? That's what you think?"

But as Salvatore lay in bed in the morning he wondered if he had been too hasty. Only a bad brother would discourage a single sister from trying to find someone. A good brother would introduce her to his friends. If he had any friends who were male.

Salvatore shook his head and got up, although 7.30 was early for him. But Polly's call didn't come as the time reached business hours. Nor did it come as the day progressed.

All morning he sat sketching versions of Polly leaning over a desk while Gina and Angelo took turns being the agency person on duty. They also talked with Rosetta about whether they should buy a new range of micro cameras.

Just before noon Salvatore rang Polly's mobile. His call went straight to voicemail. So he rang Baum and Carteret and was told that she hadn't come to work.

"Is she ill?"

"I don't know," a young man said. "I know she rang in but that's all."

So, she was sufficiently alive this morning to make a call to work. But why not a call to me? Where was she and what was she doing?

Salvatore rang the Royal United Hospital and asked for the maternity ward.

"Putting you through to neonatal," the operator said.

Salvatore asked for Jack Appleby.

"I don't think he's in," a woman there said. Salvatore heard her ask someone nearby. "No, Jack's not in today. Can someone else help you?"

"Wasn't he scheduled to be in today?"

"Yes, but he called in sick."

Nothing too trivial, I hope, Salvatore thought. "OK. I'll maybe try him at home."

Which was an option. Salvatore still had keys to Jonathan Aloysius's flat. But should he just wait for Polly, or should he try to do something?

In all likelihood Polly and Jack were together, each having taken the day off work. And they did have things to discuss. Whether they would live happily ever after, or whether he was planning to murder her ...

But was Polly safe?

Probably. But ... suppose Jonathan Aloysius was a serial murderer, and suppose Polly had told him that she knew his secret. How would he react? And how would Salvatore feel if something happened while he was waiting for Polly to call?

He went to the kitchen. Angelo was heating something in the microwave. "A word, bro."