"I went to see Tim Breary this morning," Simon said. "He gave me the poem at the end of our interview-asked me to pa.s.s it on to a woman called Gaby Struthers."

Gibbs face changed. "Gaby Struthers? She came to see me today."

"Today? When?"

"This morning."

"Why didnt you f.u.c.king tell me?" Simon snapped.

"I just did. Are you serious? I said on the phone I had something to tell you, when I said meet me here."

"Fair point," Simon muttered. More than fair: f.u.c.king obvious. His self-righteous fury, so strong only seconds ago, had evaporated. It was Sam he was angry with, not Gibbs.

"Tell me about this poem, then." Gibbs addressed the request to his rubber-band ball. Embarra.s.sed about his outburst, Simon suspected. Which was nothing to do with Tim Breary, nothing to do with work. Had Gibbs thought the poem had come from Liv, via Charlie?

It was none of Simons business. If Gibbs wanted him to know, hed tell him. Simon was itching to ask about Gaby Struthers, but he owed Gibbs an answer first. "Breary asked me-kind of begged me, really-to give the poem to Gaby Struthers. When the bloke she lives with isnt around."

"Reasonable enough," said Gibbs. "I would say that, wouldnt I? Sympathy for the underdog in any love triangle."

It was a throwaway comment, but telling nonetheless. a.s.suming Gaby Struthers and Tim Breary were having or had had some kind of illicit relationship, surely the man Gaby lived with was the love triangle underdog? "Breary asked me not to tell Struthers the poem came from him," he said. "He wanted me to say it was from The Carrier."

Gibbs rolled his ball back and forth across the tables surface using only his index finger.

"The Carrier? What does that mean?"

"No idea."

"An illness, a baby," Gibbs speculated. "What else is carried?"

"I was wondering about an illness," said Simon. "Carriers often dont have the disease themselves-they just pa.s.s it on to others."

"Breary cant seriously think youd keep his secret and get involved in whatever game hes playing with Struthers. Youre not going to, are you?"

"I dont know. What do you make of it-the sonnet?"

"Dont understand what its trying to say." Gibbs finished off his beer. "I could probably work it out, but I cant be a.r.s.ed."

"Its a love poem, though," said Simon. It was half a statement and half a question. He had read it more than ten times and still wasnt sure.

"Isnt it some kind of puzzle?"

"Puzzle?"

"Yeah-isnt the word 'paradox in there somewhere? I suppose love is a paradox, since it makes no sense. Maybe thats what its saying."

"What brought Gaby Struthers to the nick this morning?" Simon asked. There was a limit to how long he could spend discussing love with Chris Gibbs. Or anyone.

"It looks as if Lauren Cookson followed Gaby Struthers to Germany yesterday," said Gibbs. "The 'followed, I mean-thats the part Im not sure about. Lauren definitely went to Germany on the same day Gaby did. She booked the same outgoing and return flights, though she didnt end up flying back with Gaby. I havent had time yet to track down the flight she got instead, a.s.suming shes not still wandering the streets of Cologne."

"Wait, rewind." Simon held up his hand. "Lauren Cookson-Francine Brearys care a.s.sistant? Does she know Gaby Struthers?"

"She does now," said Gibbs. "They got talking at the airport, not in the most friendly of circ.u.mstances. Lauren kicked off when the flight was delayed, Gaby told her to stop whining. Then Lauren said something about an innocent man going down for murder."

"I need to talk to Gaby Struthers," said Simon, tapping his foot on the floor. "Tell me everything she told you."

Gibbs pa.s.sed his red ball from one hand to the other as he spoke. He was good at detail, better than Sellers or Sam. Forty minutes later, when Simon was confident he knew as much as Gibbs did, he finally went to the bar. He tried not to mind the buffeting back and forth while he waited, the bodies pressing against him, like on the tube in London. Why werent they all at work? Simon distracted himself with thoughts of intelligent string. Wondered how it might work.

He arrived back at the table in a worse mood. A full pint in front of him didnt lift his mood in the way it did Gibbs. "Have you got Gaby Struthers number on you?" he asked.

"Not on me, no."

"Find it, ring her, tell her I need to see her. Who else knows she came in and what she said?"

"No one but you," said Gibbs. "I havent seen Stepford and Sellers since I saw her."

"Listen, I found something out last night," Simon told him. "Something youre not going to like any more than I did." He relayed the story about the doctored interview transcript, leaving out only one detail: Regan Murray. Predictably, Gibbs first question was, "Who told you?"

"I dont want to say, for the moment. Ill tell you, but not yet. I have to tell someone else first." The notion of being fair to Proust was a new one for Simon. He didnt know where it had come from, this idea that the Snowman had a right to hear the truth about his daughter first. Did he fear that the wound he was about to inflict might be too severe, that consideration around the edges would be needed to soften the blow? Or to minimize guilt?

Guilt shouldnt come into it. Telling someone the truth meant doing them a favor. Always.

"Sam turned up at the house this morning, after Id left," Simon said. "If Id been in, hed have told me then, if I hadnt known already. Charlie thinks thats a point in his favor."

"You dont?" Gibbs asked.

"He should have told both of us, soon as he knew." So what if hed kept it quiet for less than twenty-four hours? Charlie had offered this as mitigation when she and Simon had spoken on the phone half an hour ago, as if it ought to count in Sams favor. It didnt. "What if hed rushed to tell you the second he found out?" shed said. "It would have taken him at least forty seconds to get from the Snowmans office to your desk. Would that have been forty seconds too long, in your book? Forty seconds of betrayal?" Simon didnt like being mocked; hed cut her off.

"Where have Sam and Sellers been all day, apart from avoiding having to look the mates theyve shafted in the eye?" he asked Gibbs.

"Stepfords at the Joses, I think. Sellers is doing the rounds of Francines former colleagues and then Brearys at Dignam Peac.o.c.k, seeing if he can turn up anything worth looking into." Gibbs smiled. "Lets see if Brearys colleagues describe him as quiet and normal, the only two adjectives anyone ever uses to describe their friend who went on to become a murderer."

"Brearys neither," said Simon. "Certainly not normal, whatever that is."

"Its the way he talks that gets me. When you listen to the recorded interviews, he sounds . . . I dont even know how to describe it. Scripted. Like his lines were written by someone. Like hes starring in a film."

"Yeah, hes got some kind of weird . . ." Simon stopped short of saying "star quality." That would have sounded odd. "Listen, do us a favor, Chris. Only if you want to, if you dont think Im out of order to ask. Can you keep this quiet?" Simon hoped hed got the tone right. He didnt want it to sound like an order, or like begging. Hed never called Gibbs "Chris" before. "Gaby Struthers, the poem, The Carrier. Dont tell the rest of the team."

Gibbs laughed. "Youre not serious? t.i.t for tat? They kept something from us, we keep something from them? In a murder inquiry?"

"What if Proust was okay with it? What if he told you to report to me on the Breary case, not to Sam?"

"Why would he do that? Youre not skipper. Stepford is."

"Stuff 'why up its own a.r.s.e. What if he did?"

Gibbs tapped the top of his red-elastic-band ball with his finger. "Id tell him Id rather report to Stepford, who never says, 'Stuff "why" up its own a.r.s.e when I ask him a question."

Simon sighed and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger, a pincer movement. Surprisingly, it helped: smoothed the tension away. "When they chose to keep quiet, Sam and Sellers declared war."

"Thats one way to look at it."

Simon was glad he wasnt a politician. Speeches like this were hard-ones designed to win people over. "I didnt start the war, but I can win it," he said. "Gaby Struthers and Lauren Cookson, their connection, that poem-theyre going to lead us to the answer, and soon. I can feel it. I want Sam and Sellers to look like d.i.c.ks when we sort this, d.i.c.ks who know f.u.c.k-all. Im going to f.u.c.king show them. Sorry if you think that should be beneath me. Its not."

"Liv hasnt asked you yet, has she?"

Of all the things he might have said . . .

"Liv?" Simon injected his voice with as much incredulousness as possible. Youre thinking about your love life in the middle of the most important conversation weve ever had?

"About reading at her wedding," said Gibbs.

"Charlie mentioned it. I said Id read a pa.s.sage from Moby-d.i.c.k. Apparently that wasnt good enough."

"Its not about good enough, its about right for the occasion. Moby-d.i.c.k isnt."

Neither was Tim Brearys sonnet that might or might not be about love.

That was why Gibbs had reacted badly to the poem. His first thought had been Livs wedding, not Francine Brearys murder, and hed attributed the same order of priorities to Simon.

"What are you and Charlie doing tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Nothing, far as I know," Simon told him.

"Have dinner with me and Liv-tomorrows one of our nights. Theres something we need to ask you together. Our treat."

One of their nights. While Debbie stayed in and looked after the twins alone? And what did "our treat" mean? They couldnt have a joint bank account, surely. Simon and Charlie didnt; Charlie had told him while they were engaged that he could bog off if he thought she was going to fuse her finances with his.

"You do me this favor, Ill do whatever you want about work," Gibbs said. "Tell, not tell, I dont give a f.u.c.k-whatever you say."

"Deal." Simon held out his hand for Gibbs to shake. Gibbs threw him the red ball instead.

- "h.e.l.lo, have I got the right number for the Incredible Sulk? Its me. Can you stop being a baby and ring me? Thanks. Bye." Charlie pressed the end-call b.u.t.ton and balanced her phone across the top of her empty mug. "Voice mail," she said. "Which means Im being ignored. Hed have picked up if hed forgiven me." She shook her head. "Husbands-dont they drive you mad?"

"Mine doesnt," said Kerry. Her body had a.s.sumed the defensive hunch position.

"Youre lucky, then. Mines in a strop. When I nipped out for a f.a.g before, I dared to ring him and tell him that someone hes furious with has put things right and is champing at the bit to apologize." Charlie waited to be asked why any wronged person would object to the contrition of the offending party.

Silence from Kerry.

"Theres nothing my husband hates more than an instant apology," said Charlie, annoyed not to be able to mention Simon by name; it would serve him right if the key witnesses in his case found out what a petty git he was. "He likes to indulge his anger, cant stand to have his wallowing cut short by his enemy turning out not to be against him after all." She smiled. "Relationships are weird, arent they? So, tell me about Tim Brearys affair with Gaby. Or would you rather leave it till another time, when shes not upstairs?"

"Shes not anymore," Kerry said. "Didnt you hear the front door slam? That was Gaby leaving. Angrily, or in a hurry. Or both."

Charlie waited.

Eventually Kerry said, "It wasnt an affair, not in the usual way. Tim and Gaby never slept together as far as I know, and I think I would know. Gaby would have told me."

"Why didnt they?"

"Tim wouldnt. He wouldnt explain why, either to me or to Gaby, but I think I know: fear of Francine. He didnt want there to be any evidence of his infidelity, which, if he hadnt been unfaithful physically, there couldnt be."

"Francine could have found evidence of a platonic relationship, couldnt she?" Charlie asked.

"Absolutely. I was surprised she didnt, to be honest, the amount of time Tim spent with Gaby. I suppose he could always have said, 'Im not sleeping with her, and it would have been true. I reckon a lot of people salve their consciences in that way."

And a confident, successful woman like Gaby Struthers had put up with this non-physical affair, aka a total waste of time? Charlie tried to suppress her irritation. Why couldnt someone tell men like Simon and Tim Breary that blokes were supposed to want s.e.x? All the time, with anyone, irrespective of the consequences. What was the point of being a man if you couldnt comply with that basic rule? Traitors to their gender, thats what they were.

"It was a weird time, and for sure the happiest Tims ever been," Kerry said. "Gaby was like his parallel-track wife. For more than a year, Dan and I were part of two foursomes."

"Meaning?" Charlie prompted.

"We still had our stilted, shoeless evenings with Tim and Francine, but we also went out with Tim and Gaby and had fun-even more fun because we were so aware of the contrast."

Shoeless? Charlie decided to let it pa.s.s.

"The first time Tim invited us for dinner to meet his new friend, as he called her, I couldnt work out what he was playing at. He was obviously head over heels, though hed have died sooner than admit it, and I thought, whys he involving me and Dan? I didnt mind; I was glad he felt able to share it with us, but . . . most people planning an affair dont invite their friends along to partic.i.p.ate in the deception. They keep it as quiet as possible."

"Tim sounds unusual in lots of ways," Charlie said.

Kerry nodded. "Tims unique. I mean, everyone is, supposedly, but with Tim, you never know what h.e.l.l say or do next. Its . . . well, its exciting. Everyone he meets adores him-you can see it. You see them not being able to work out why theyre so drawn to him, and then they realize: they dont know anyone else who can make a conversation so much like a . . . roller-coaster ride. Sorry, it sounds stupid, I know, but . . . its not just the unpredictability. Tim has a way of focusing all his attention on you when hes talking to you-attention and admiration. He makes people feel as if he really sees them. Hears them. Every word you say matters when youre talking to Tim. Thats so rare, isnt it? And, if youve seen him . . . well, hes incredibly good-looking."

"Youd better stop before I fall in love with a man Ive never met," Charlie interrupted the adoring monologue. "So why didnt Tim mind you and Dan being party to his not-quite-affair with Gaby?"

"I think hed decided he could never allow himself to leave Francine, but he wanted to try out the other option," Kerry said. "Dinners with me, Dan and Gaby-a simulation of the life he couldnt have. Thats why it was important to him to have a little taste of it, more important than being discreet and keeping Gaby secret from us."

"But he left Francine eventually, you said?"

"Yes. Shortly after things went wrong for him and Gaby. I dont know what happened, before you ask. Neither of them would say a word about it. It nearly destroyed Tim. I think, at that point, he was so miserable, he couldnt pretend with Francine anymore. He left me and Dan too, and his job-literally walked out of his life, left it all behind. I dont think hed have left only Francine, if you see what I mean. It had to be everything, so that she didnt take it too personally. And, oddly, she didnt-oddly for someone accustomed to thinking everything was all about her. She told me Tim must have had a breakdown: if hed been in his right mind, hed never have left her."

"Did she try and contact him?" Charlie asked. "I bet she wrote him off as damaged goods soon as he was out the door, didnt she?"

Kerry looked surprised. "How did you know? Dan and I were stunned by her reaction. It seemed so . . . not her. I still dont get it."

"Youve just described the most manipulative woman in the world," Charlie told her. "Manipulators are as sensitive to their own fluctuating power levels as brokers are to the markets. They use that knowledge to ensure that they never look like losers. Once Tim did the unthinkable-threw off his chains and walked out-Francine would have known her spell was broken and there was nothing she could do to bring him back. It would have annoyed her ma.s.sively, but her pride would have kicked in to conceal the defeat."

"So she set about portraying herself as the winner," said Kerry, frowning. "The strong woman, better off without her mentally ill husband. Wow. I think you might be on to something there."

Charlie smiled. Would she repeat her insight to Simon later? It was always hard to predict what would impress him. Sometimes she shared details of what she imagined to be an achievement and he launched into a lecture about how wrong she was.

"I said to Dan at the time, its lucky Tim broke off contact with us too when he disappeared. What if he hadnt, and hed asked how Francine was taking it?"

Charlie waited, unsure where this was going.

"Wed have had to lie. If Id said, 'Shes totally fine: going to work as usual, not falling apart at all, not asking after you-"

"Hed have kicked himself for not having left her sooner?"

"Hard to say, Tim being Tim. I certainly would have, in his position. All those years, wasted." Kerry shuddered. "Course, Francine couldnt have been fine deep down, whatever gloss she may have put on it. And everything I heard was secondhand anyway, via our only mutual acquaintance, and she didnt know Francine that well. I preferred to think of Francine as secretly falling apart. She deserved to be."