Devil in Disguise

ossibly he had a change of heart and opted to stay at home and wallow in alcohol and remorse.’

‘He doesn’t sound to me like the sort of man who would be prey to conscience,’ Juliet objected. ‘Besides, he’d got away with it, hadn’t he? He would never have been locked up for killing Luke. Why not just do a flit?’

‘Perhaps he couldn’t think of anywhere worth flitting to. The police can’t be certain, but they think he was alone in the flat that evening and that I was the first person to turn up the day after. The fact that I found the door and gate locked suggests that.’

Juliet’s eyes began to gleam. ‘Don’t tell me we’re confronted by a locked studio flat mystery? A mystery buff’s dream!’

‘I hate to disappoint you, but round here the bad guys don’t bother with icicles kept in vacuum flasks or blowpipes containing a poison unknown to Western science. When they want to settle a little difference of opinion about drugs or women, they rely on a Stanley knife in the ribs or a few rounds from a submachine-gun. Subtlety isn’t their strong point.’

‘This could be the exception that proves the rule,’ she insisted. ‘You’ve told me yourself that half your clients are out of work and claiming benefit. But every once in a while you act for someone different like the Kavanaugh trustees.’

‘Yeah, and look what’s been happening to them.’

She sighed. ‘Inge is heartbroken about Matthew.’

‘You said on the phone that she stayed with you for a couple of nights after Gary Cullinan was exposed.’

‘Yes. It seemed sensible f

story fan. Personally, I prefer poetry. I think Sylvia Plath is marvellous.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Harry decided that Melissa wouldn’t be an ideal choice as a fun companion on a desert island. Maybe Roy hadn’t simply been jealous of Ashley when he’d described her as being as neurotic as hell. ‘Can I interest you in an exchange of murders?’ he asked, nodding at the Highsmith book.

She glanced in Ashley’s direction and gave a high-pitched laugh. ‘There are times when I might be tempted. He lives in a world of his own, frankly. Do you know, he spent the whole of yesterday evening on the phone to some crime nut in Milwaukee, having promised faithfully to take me out for a slap-up meal? He’s obsessed. I don’t think anyone could blame me if I a

Whilst he was waiting, Harry mooched around the reception area. Glancing through the door into the Herman Melville Bar, he noticed Don Ragovoy talking to a young man who was polishing glasses, the one who had accompanied him to Luke’s funeral. Then out of the corner of his eye he spotted a small swarthy man in a porter’s uniform carrying a couple of heavy suitcases. The badge on the man’s lapel said Julio. Moving as swiftly, for once, as in his footballing days, Harry intercepted the porter on his way to the goods lift.

‘Excuse me. I believe you spoke to a friend of mine, a Mr Whitaker, about the man who died here recently – Luke Dessaur.’

The man gave him a sullen look. ‘Listen, mister, I don’t want any more trouble. I had the police round asking questions after your friend came here.’

‘There’s not going to be any trouble. You gave my friend a lot of help. I simply wonder if you can remember anything else about the argument you overheard.’

The man shook his head vigorously. ‘Not a thing, mister. Not a thing.’

‘Was it a woman in Mr Dessaur’s room or another man?’

‘Listen, I tell your friend, I dunno.’

‘What time was it?’