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“Oh, she did,” said Agatha. “Deep down, although you may not know it, Phil, you never really misted her, or you wouldn’t have behaved the way you did.”

“I thought I adored her,” said Phil in a low voice.

“Anyway,” said Patrick, “we’d better tell the police.”

“Not yet,” said Agatha. “She’ll plead innocence and that will be that. Mrs. Bloxby said she thought jealousy held the whole thing together. This Burt seems to have been prepared to lay anything in sight. Oh, yes, he does seem to have been in love with Jessica, although he had a strange way of showing it. What if… I mean, just what if Burt had indulged in an affair with Mabel? He must have seen her around often enough. What if two jilted women had it in for Burt? Burt may have supplied Smedley with those videos. Mabel found them and that added to her hatred of both Burt and her husband and Jessica. Do you still have those photographs of Mabel, Phil?”

“Yes, of course,” said Phil, thinking sadly of how many times he had taken them out and looked at them. He still couldn’t believe his behaviour in stealing that video but came to the conclusion that ever since he had found that diploma, somewhere inside him he had begun to mistrust her.

“The plan is this,” said Agatha. “We’ll all need photos of Mabel and Burt and we’ll go around every hotel and restaurant in the whole area to see whether they’ve ever been seen together. Maybe that’s why Smedley wanted his wife followed. Burt may have been blackmailing him and he may have suspected his wife was close to Burt.

“I’ll phone Harry and get him on to it as well.” But there was no reply to Harry’s phone.

Harry, who had found out the name of the new owner-manager, presented himself at the front desk of Jensens Electronics, gave the fictitious name of John Macleod, and said he had an appointment with Mr. Jensen.

The receptionist picked up the phone and talked into it. Then she said to Harry, “Mr. Jensen’s secretary says she has no record of any appointment, and furthermore Mr. Jensen is absent on business, so he has no appointments for today.”

“There must be a misunderstanding,” said Harry. “May I talk to her?”

The receptionist picked up the phone again. Then she replaced the receiver when she had finished talking and said, “Take a seat. Miss Morrison will be out in a moment.”

Harry had hoped for some girl he could charm, but Miss Morrison turned out to be middle-aged, Scottish, and with a brisk no-nonsense manner.

“Mr. Macleod? You’re wasting your time, young man.”

“But I have a letter here from Mr. Jensen himself!”

The rubbish bins from the firm had been placed out on the road the night before for collection in the morning. Harry had rummaged through them until he found a letter which had not been shredded. He had carefully copied the letterhead on his computer and then had written a letter supposed to be from Mr. George Jensen saying he was impressed by his qualifications and asking him to call at eleven-thirty that day.

Miss Morrison read the letter with raised eyebrows. “He said nothing of this to me. Follow me, young man.”

Harry followed her through to her office. “Take a seat,” she ordered. “I’m just going to check the boss’s appointment book.”

Harry looked quickly around. Two filing cases, desk and computer, one typing chair and one for visitors. A large cheese plant. There was a small kitchen off the secretary’s room with a sink and a coffee machine beside it.

He did not have time for anything but a quick look, because she came back in and said, “There’s nothing in his appointment book. Leave your number and I’ll phone you when he gets back.”

Harry got to his feet and thanked her. He looked at the cheese plant. “Fine specimen you’ve got there,” he said, playing for time, hoping to engage her in some sort of conversation so that he could have a better look at the office.

“Oh, that,” she said with a dismissive snort. “Wouldn’t like it, would you? The last people left it. It blocks out the light from the window.”

“No,” said