Marie tossed her hair. How was a star a stahr, dahling supposed to cope with neglect and famishment? The hair-toss and the att.i.tude were not really appropriate for Hedda, her first starring role, but Marie was not a method actor. She was able to leave Hedda at school and be herself at home.

"Hey," she called. "Hey!"

But there was no answer.

She thought for a moment. Her parents were in court and apparently not back yet. Uncle Sal was supposed to be out working today. So Auntie Rose would be in the agency office. Which must be why she wasn't cooking. But it was a bit much a bit much, dahling when not only was it close to dinnertime, it was a family dinnertime. Did n.o.body respect tradition any more?

But just as Marie was about to look for David whose bag she saw lying awkwardly by the door she heard noises from above. Her grandparents were on the move, on their way down. Them, at least, she could count on. Mama would cook. All would be well.

Marie dropped on to a chair and let her hair hang back. A tableau of fatigue. Mama and the Old Man would appreciate quality in a weary grandchild, even if n.o.body did.

But when the descending footsteps arrived outside the kitchen door, they didn't stop to turn into the flat. They continued down the stairs that led to the street. Mama and the Old Man were going out.

What on earth was happening? Was she doomed doomed, dahling to expire here? Drained. Unreplenished. Ignored.

Gina and Angelo arrived home even later than the day before, but their spirits were high. Everyone could see it as soon as they stepped into the kitchen. "Honeys, we're home," Angelo said.

"And home to stay," Gina said. "The case is over. The bad guys changed their pleas. All of them. They're guilty, guilty, guilty."

There was a murmur of congratulation from around the table.

"What's this?" Angelo said, looking at an array of plastic containers. "Not Rose's curry?"

"We did Suko tonight, Dad," David said, referring to the Thai restaurant down the street.

"Celebrating or just busy?" Gina asked.

"Auntie Rose and Uncle Sal made progress on a case, but they haven't reported yet. They wanted to wait for you."

"Which case?" Angelo asked.

"The fiance, from yesterday," Salvatore said. "We made a break-through. It may even be murder." He opened his eyes theatrically wide and looked from David to Marie and back again.

"Wash your hands," Mama said.

Gina said, "We won't be a minute."

"Murder he talks about, this Salvatore," the Old Man said. "Do you hear that? Murder." Only the Old Man had ever solved a murder case for the agency. "What I could tell you about a murder."

A moan rose from around the table.

"What?" He looked around.

"Not now," Mama said. "Here, have more king prawns with cashews."

The Old Man liked his cashews. And his king prawns. After a moment he moved his plate closer so she could serve. Sharing his wisdom could wait for later.

Gina and Angelo were not away long.

"It's not that we want to hear about any more cases," Angelo said as he sat. "I just don't want Papa eating all the prawns."

Faces turned to the Old Man to see what response he'd make to this nudge. But he just said, "What? You think I can't take a joke? Huh! Also I can take a hint." He pushed a plastic tray closer to Angelo.

"So, c'mon, Sally, tell us," Gina said.

As the food made the rounds, Salvatore said, "Well, to recap, my new client objected to the familiarity with which the registrar greeted her husband-to-be when they went in to arrange their wedding. Well, it turns out that the registrar does know Jonathan Aloysius Appleby. Quite well." Salvatore spread his hands. Everyone recognized this as an invitation to speculate about the case.

"Personally?" Gina asked.

"Strictly business," Rosetta said.

"Interesting. Because a registrar's business is births, deaths, and marriages. Is there anything else they do?" Gina turned to her husband.

Angelo shrugged.

"If there is," Salvatore said, "you needn't look for it."

"Births, deaths and marriages?" David said. "So did Jonathan thingy have a lot of children?"

"By different mothers?" Marie said. "Or maybe with this registrar herself?"

"Or he just registered them all with this registrar?" Angelo asked.

"No," Salvatore said. "Nothing to do with children."

"That only leaves marriages and deaths," David said.

"Correct," Rosetta said.

"Which?"

"Both."

"There's marriage and death in Hedda Gabler," Marie said. "If anybody cares." She tossed her hair.

The family agreed that, really, Salvatore should ring Polly Mainwaring after dinner.

Oh well, Salvatore thought. If I must ring the most gorgeous woman I've met in ages and tell her news that ought to end her engagement ...

He contemplated how he would feel about being a rebound boyfriend.

He decided he'd feel just fine.

However, when he rang, Polly's phone was switched off. "I have new information for you, Ms Mainwaring," he said in his message. "It's quite important, so I would like to see you either later tonight or tomorrow morning. Ring me. Anytime."

He hoped that he'd managed to balance urgency and not frightening her. However, when Polly called at 9.50 she was frightened. "Mr. Lunghi? What is this about? You've found out things that I should know?"

"Yes, but there are doc.u.ments you really need to see, so I'd prefer to meet you so you can see them for yourself. If you'd like me to come over now ..."

Polly's flat was much more modest than her fiance's and not in the city centre. It took Salvatore twenty minutes to get there and it would have been longer without the satnav because her building was at the end of a cul-de-sac that was missing its street sign.

Polly opened the downstairs door immediately when he pulled up outside. She must have been watching from upstairs and guessed his would be the only car arriving at that time of night.

Once in her flat she turned to face him. "What have you found out? Because Jack is acting like everything is completely normal."

"Please," Salvatore said, "let's sit somewhere."

She pointed to a couch. She picked a matching armchair.

"As you know, Jack has been married before," Salvatore began after he'd put a black folder on the table in front of them.

"To Belinda. I told you that this afternoon."

"Belinda Rogers." Salvatore removed prints of two doc.u.ments. "Marriage and death certificates."

Polly's face showed her puzzlement. She did not reach for the papers.

Then Salvatore pulled out two more pieces of paper. "Harriet Martinson." Then two more. "Rosalind Perry." Two more. "Gladys Anne Horowitz." Two more. "Felicity Jarbaum." Two more. "Arabella Marlow."

"What are these?"

"Marriage and death certificates."

Polly's eyes widened.

Quietly Salvatore said, "Jack has been married six times. At least six times. These are copies of doc.u.ments he keeps in a folder in his desk."

"Married six times?"

"And, in each case his wife died within a few months of the wedding."

The large eyes got larger still. "Died?"

"Yes."

"You're ... you're saying that he murdered them?"

Salvatore shook his head. "I can't say anything of the kind. In each case the death certificate gives a natural cause of death, a cancer as either the primary or a secondary cause."

"But ... you can't kill someone by giving them cancer."

"I don't know enough about medicine to know what is or isn't possible." He paused and watched her fill in a blank: possible for someone with medical training. "I can look into that if you want me to. However you should also know that in each case all six times the wedding was conducted by Beverley Norbury."

"But that's-"

"Ms Norbury is, indeed, the registrar Jack took you to the other day. She's been a registrar here in Bath for nearly fifteen years. Jack's first wedding was twelve years ago."

"Twelve," Polly said quietly.

"And," Salvatore said, "you should know that Beverley Norbury also registered all six deaths."

Polly Mainwaring sat holding the doc.u.ments.

"So it's no wonder that Ms Norbury knows Jack. She's met him on at least a dozen previous occasions. She says-"

"You talked with her?"

"My sister did. Ms Norbury acknowledged knowing Jack but she denied that the relationship is personal."

"But if she's in league with him ... If she helps him marry women and then kill them ..."

"I haven't said or suggested any such thing. All we know are the dates and details of these twelve events. They do explain why Ms Norbury might call him Jack. However, they don't explain why she greeted him in that personal and friendly way."

"Yes," Polly said. "Yes, she did."

"There may be a good reason," Salvatore said, "and I'm making no accusations. But I hope you see why I thought you ought to have this information sooner rather than later."

"Yes," Polly said. Quietly.

Salvatore could see that his client was upset. "Look, can I get you a cup of tea? Or something stronger?"

As the evening went on, the Old Man became restless. The television was on but he wasn't watching it with his usual critical attention.

"Why do you twitch?" Mama said.

He thought about it. Then he realized. "The certificates. Salvatore's marriage and death. I don't like them."

After a moment Mama said, "They don't have to be a murder."

"I don't care about that." They always thought his murder was so precious to him. "Huh!"

"No?"

"Let the boy solve a dozen murders. Or half-a-dozen, if that's how many. Maybe the boy will be proud and work full-time and give up painting that doesn't pay."

"He values his independence too much."

"That we all value. Doesn't mean he shouldn't work here. Let him paint in spare time. We could even make him a room." He didn't know which room but there was bound to be one. The Old Man rocked forward.