what?"
"To separate a lie from the truth."
She turned to him. He was, of a sudden, disturbingly close. He seemed to know this because he looked as if he was about to say something else or, worse, do something that both of them would come to regret.
She said, "And exactly what truth would that be?"
He moved away. He turned on the ignition. He said, "When I thought about it, the date on his contract didn't mean anything."
"What date? What contract?"
"The contract with DragonFly Tonics, Frazer Chaplin's agreement to use his Vespa to advertise the product. The contract called for a bright colour of paint; it designated the number of transfers required. His signature makes it appear as if he went out directly and had the work done."
"He didn't," she said, understanding now. "Winston's watching those films for a lime green Vespa with transfers. The house to house is asking about a lime green Vespa with transfers."
"Something likely to be seen and remembered."
"When he didn't use a lime green Vespa with transfers to get up to Stoke Newington at all."
He nodded. "I rang the paint shop in Shepherd's Bush after I spoke to Barbara about meeting her snout. Frazer Chaplin went there indeed to have the Vespa painted and the transfers applied. But he did it the day after Jemima died."
BELLA MCHAGGIS WAS wrestling a new worm-composting bin from her car when Scotland Yard arrived. Her visitors comprised the two officers she'd spoken to at the Met, on the day when she'd found poor Jemima's handbag. They parked across the street from Bella's house in an antique motorcar, which was how she noticed them at first, because of the car itself. The appearance of such a vehicle in Oxford Road - or any road, she reckoned - was going to draw attention. It spoke of indulgence, money by the bucketful, and petrol swallowed down willy-nilly. Where was conservation? she wondered. Where was good sense? She couldn't remember their names, but she nodded a greeting as they came across the street towards her.
The man - he politely reintroduced himself as DI Lynley and his companion as Superintendent Ardery - took over the removal of the composting bin from Bella's car. He had manners. There was no doubt about it. Somebody had brought him up correctly, which was more than one could say about most people under the age of forty these days.
Obviously, they hadn't come to Putney to help her with her worm composting, so Bella asked them into the house. The inspector needed to put the bin into the back garden anyway, and since the only way to get there was through the house, once they were inside Bella did the proper thing and offered them a cup of tea.
They demurred, but they did say - this was the woman, Superintendent Ardery - that they'd like a word. Bella said of course, of course, and she added stoutly that she hoped they'd come to tell her an arrest had been made in this terrible affair of Jemima's death.
They were close, DI Lynley said.
They'd come to talk to her about Frazer Chaplin, the superintendent added.
She said it kindly, and the kindness made Bella's antennae go up. She said, "Fra zer?
What's this about Frazer? Haven't you done anything at all about that psychic?"
"Mrs. McHaggis." It was Lynley now. Bella didn't half like the way he sounded, which was unaccountably regretful. Less did she like his expression because it suggested to her an element of ...Was it pity? She felt her spine stiffen.
"What?" she barked. She felt like showing them the door. She wondered how many more times she was going to have to direct these stupid people where they needed directing, which was on to Yolanda the Flipping Psychic.
Lynley again. He began an explanation of sorts. It had to do with Jemima's mobile and calls made to it on the day of her death and calls made to it after her death and pinging towers, whatever they were. Frazer had rung her within the time frame of her death, it seemed, but he had not rung her afterwards, which, apparently, was suggesting to the coppers that Frazer thus had murdered the poor girl! If there was ever anything more nonsensical than that, Bella McHaggis did not know what it was.
Then the woman copper chimed in. Her explanation had to do with Frazer's motorbike.
She banged on about its colour, the transfers he had put upon it to raise a bit of needed money, and how