"It's more than a minute," said Banks. "And that's quite a long time. Also, during that period, Hayley announces her intention and goes off, while the others, who tried to persuade her against the idea, head for the Bar None. We know that Stuart Kinsey sneaked right out of the back and in all likelihood heard Hayley being attacked."

"So what are you saying? Or am I being thick?"

"No, ma'am. It took me a while to figure it out."

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better. Well? I still don't see how Jamie Murdoch could have got into the Maze without being seen, raped and killed Hayley Daniels and then got back in again to clean up his toilets."

"Nor did I at first," said Banks. "Until I realized that nobody has conducted a thorough search of the Fountain. It's a mini-maze of its own. There's all sorts of rooms, upstairs, cellar, what have you, and it's an old building. Eighteenth century. When you think about it, it stands to reason that there could be another way in and out."

"A secret passage? You jest, surely?"

"It wouldn't be the first time in this part of the world," said Banks. "Some way of getting out quickly when unwelcome guests arrived, perhaps?"

"All right. I know my history. Priest holes and the like. Maybe you've got a point."

"And that made me think of something else."

Gervaise raised an eyebrow. "Pray tell."

"When Winsome talked to Jill Sutherland, the girl who works at the Fountain, Jill told her that one of the reasons she didn't like it there was because Jamie Murdoch dealt in smuggled booze and cigarettes, and that he had even tried to get her to bring back stuff when she went abroad."

"Everybody does it," said Gervaise. "I know it's a crime, but trying to stop it would be like sticking your finger in the dyke."

"That's not my point," said Banks. "The point is that when Kev Templeton had a look around the Fountain, he didn't find anything. Nor did Winsome and I."

"'Nothing can come of nothing.' Didn't someone say that?"

"Shakespeare, ma'am."

"Clever bugger."

"It was just a guess. You've usually got at least a 49 per cent chance of being right if you say Shakespeare to every quote, maybe more."

"And the other 51 per cent?"

"Most49 per centto the Bible, and the rest...well, your guess is as good as mine. Oscar Wilde, probably."

"Interesting theory. Go on."

"Well, at first I thought that maybe all the police attention had encouraged Jamie to get rid of the stuff, or move it somewhere else, but then it struck me that if he had a good-enough hiding place from the start, and if the stuff's not in"

"Any of the places Templeton searched, then it has to be hidden somewhere. A cubbyhole, something like that?"

"Exactly," said Banks. "And this cubbyhole may well lead out into the Maze."

"There's a great deal of speculation here," said Gervaise. "I'm not sure I like it."

"But we can check, can't we?" said Banks. "If you can arrange for a search warrant, first for Murdoch's home, so we can make sure he's not stashing the smuggled goods there, and second for a thorough search of the Fountain, walls, floors and all, then we've got him."

"I'm not sure we've got enough evidence for a search warrant."

"But we can try, can't we?"

Gervaise stood up. "We can try," she said.

"I've also been doing a bit of checking around this morning, and I have one more test I want to try first, with your help. Who knows, it might even add to our weight of evidence."

"At this point, a feather would tip the balance," said Gervaise. "But tell me anyway."

"Maggie Forrest went through a hell of a lot," Annie told Ginger as they ate a late lunch together in a pub on Flowergate. "It's bound to have affected her."

"That's what you get when you go around befriending sex killers," said Ginger, picking at her chips. "But if Liam's come through with the hair match, she's out of the picture anyway, isn't she?"

"Not necessarily. Maybe we should keep an open mind," Annie said. "Besides, there was some doubt as to Lucy Payne's role as a sex killer."

"You're not trying to say she didn't do it, are you?"

Annie ate another forkful of salad and pushed her plate aside. "We never really believed that she killed the victims," she said, "but she was certainly a willing participant in their degradation and torture. Terence Payne killed them, at least that was where the evidence pointed. But she helped him to abduct them. In my eyes it makes them both guilty of everything."

"People are less inclined to be wary of a woman, or a couple, approaching them."

"True enough," Annie agreed. "Sugar and spice, we are."

Ginger made a face and wiped the beer froth from her upper lip. The pub was busy, most of the tables taken up by local shop and office workers enjoying their lunch hour. "Anyway," she went on, "you're right about keeping an open mind. This hair business isn't conclusive. And just because we found it on the blanket, and just because it might match this Kirsten Farrow's, that still doesn't mean Maggie Forrest didn't kill Lucy Payne, right?"

"Right," Annie agreed. "Maggie Forrest doesn't have an alibi, for one thing."

"Maybe we should have a word with that shrink of hers?"

"Psychiatrists never tell you anything," Annie said. "They're worse than priests and lawyers. But I suppose we could always have a try. I want to talk to Kirsten Farrow's shrink, too. The one who hypnotized her. I've got a name from the files: Laura Henderson. I'll see if I can get her on the phone sometime this afternoon. What about Templeton, though? How does he fit in with all this?"

"Your mate?"

"No mate of mine, and a terrible copper, if truth be told. Poor sod, though. What a way to go."

"At least it was quick."

"I suppose so," said Annie. She felt a pang of sadness for Templeton, with his sharp suits, gelled hair and sense of himself as God's gift to women. The poor bastard had had blue balls for Winsome ever since she joined the team, and she never gave him a chance. Not that she should have; Annie wouldn't have either, even if he had tried it on with her. But even so, it had sometimes been painful to watch him suffer so obviously. There were some nights she bet he could hardly walk home.

"What's so funny?" Ginger asked.

"Nothing. Just thinking about Kev, that's all. Memories. They're having a wake for him at the Queen's Arms tonight."

"Going?"

"Maybe."

"That's all we're left with when it comes right down to it. Memories."

"That's a bloody depressing thought," said Annie. "What have you got so far? Are we any closer to the leak?"

Ginger ate her last chips and shook her head while her mouth was full. Then she patted her chest and took another sip of beer. Sunlight broke through the clouds for a moment and shone through the stained-glass windows. "Bugger all," she said. "But I still don't like Julia Ford, or that other one, the one we met first."

"Constance Wells?"

"That's the one. Another slippery little bitch."

"Now, now, Ginger. Claws."

"Well..."

"So neither of them will admit to telling anyone Karen Drew's real identity?"

"Of course not. Lips sealed tighter than a Scotsman's sphincter, if you'll excuse my language."

"Anything interesting in the background checks?"

"Nothing yet. The usual university stuff. I do believe Constance Wells was a member of the Marxist Society when she was a student, mind you. I'll bet she wouldn't want that to get around the firm."

Annie smiled. "You wouldn't, would you?"

Ginger gave a mischievous grin. "I might. You never know." She finished her beer. "I'm glad that had no calories in it."

"Anything else? Pudding, maybe?"

Ginger patted her stomach. "No, that's me done, guv. There was one thing struck me as interesting in all my digging around. Hardly relevant, mind you, but interesting."

"Oh?" said Annie. "What's that?"

"Well, Julia Ford was a late starter. She didn't go to university till she was in her early twenties."

"So?"

"Most people go straight from school, that's all. Law, medicine, what have you. Want to get the education over with and start earning the big money and pay off their student loans as soon as they can."

"Okay," said Annie. "That makes sense. I think they had grants back then, though, not loans. Still, it's an interesting point. If there's a chance that Maggie Forrest is really Kirsten Farrow, there's also a chance that Julia Ford is, too, isn't there?"

Ginger looked surprised. "That's not where I was"

"Hold on a minute, though," Annie went on. "There is, isn't there? She's about the right age, she's slight enough in build, and if she hid her hair under a hat, downplayed the fancy clothes and the makeup...It could be her, couldn't it?"

"Julia Ford? Bloody hell! But she defended Lucy Payne."

"She also knew her identity and where she was. Okay, so we've got a bit of a problem with motive. There seems to be a conflict there. But perhaps there was a reason for that. Something we don't know about."

"I suppose you could have a point," said Ginger. "Want me to do a bit more digging into her background?"

Annie nodded. "Yes. See if you can find out where she was between 1985, which was when Kirsten would have started uni, and 1991 or 1992, which is about the last sighting of her. But be careful."

"What about alibis?"

"It'll be tricky without her knowing, but if you could find out where she was at the times Lucy and Templeton were murdered, it would be a big help."

"I'll see what I can do. But what I was going to tell you"

"Yes?"

"Julia Ford did another degree before her law one. Not English lit. Psychology. At Liverpool."

"It still doesn't let her out of the picture. And the law degree?"

"Bristol."

"Kirsten Farrow was from Bath. It's very close."

"Our Ms. Ford shared a flat while she was there. First and second year."

"Students often do."

"It's just that I happened to get connected with a very chatty and helpful young woman from student housing, had all the records going back years. Anyway, Julia Ford shared the flat with Elizabeth Wallace, who was studying medicine at the time. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Elizabeth Wallace your pathologist back in Western Area?"

"She is, indeed," said Annie. "Dr. Elizabeth Wallace."

"Just a point of interest, that's all," Ginger said. "They were mates, her and Julia Ford. And"

"And what?"

"I did a bit more checking, and they both live in Harrogate now."

"Big place."

"Both members of the local golf club, too."

"Fellow professionals. Makes sense. But you're right, Ginger, it is interesting. Are you thinking Julia Ford might have told Dr. Wallace...?"

"And Dr. Wallace might have let it slip elsewhere? Well, it's possible, isn't it? That is, if Julia Ford isn't the one we're looking for."

"I wonder if Dr. Wallace can tell us anything?"

"She's hardly any more likely to spill the beans than Julia Ford, is she?" said Ginger. "I mean, doctors. They're worse than lawyers. That's if there are any beans to spill."

"Perhaps not," said Annie. "But when we get back to the station, keep digging into Julia Ford's background. Discreetly, of course. Get back to your friend at Bristol and see if she can dig up any more names from around that time. Others who might have shared the flat, been members of the same societies, that sort of thing. It might be worth my having a word with Dr. Wallace later if you do come up with anything. I've met her a couple of times. She seems okay."

"What are you thinking?"

Annie grabbed her briefcase and stood up. They walked out onto Flowergate and joined the flow of people. "I'm thinking, you know, a couple of drinks at the nineteenth holethere's been some decent enough weather for golf recentlythe tongue loosens. 'Guess who's our client and what we've done with her,' says Julia. 'Oh?' says Dr. Wallace. And so on."

"Girl talk?"