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anger. What on earth, she wondered, had happened to Nelson Mackintosh, and what effect would his abrupt disappearance have on the neighbourhood. Surely she and Tess could not have been so gullible that they had fallen for the self-serving deceit of a murder suspect.
    Feeling slightly weary, she set off back home but as soon as she turned into her street and saw the red car parked outside the house she realised that here was another complication that she was not sure how to handle. Harry Barnard stepped out of the car and came down the road to meet her, a cigarette in one hand and a crumpled copy of the
Evening Standard
in the other.
    â€˜Morning,’ he said, slightly brusquely. ‘I was down this way and decided to see how you were getting on with your house hunting. I thought maybe you’d like a chauffeur for a morning instead of grinding round London on the tube. I’m going to the Chelsea match this afternoon but I’ve got a couple of hours to spare.’
    Kate hesitated and then smiled ruefully. ‘It’s a nice idea,’ she said. ‘But Tess and Maria have decided that they want to move too so we’re looking for somewhere for all three of us. We need to go together and Marie’s working today so it’s not a good day. Sorry.’
    â€˜You were out so early that I thought you must be looking at a flat already,’ Barnard said, and Kate realised that he must have been sitting outside the house for some time.
    â€˜No, I had a message to do for the old lady in the basement,’ Kate said, wondering why she felt she had to explain herself to this importunate policeman to whom she had never given the slightest encouragement. ‘Did you know there was a murder off the Portobello Road this morning?’ she rushed on. ‘I think maybe you’re right, this isn’t a very nice area. And our neighbours moved out yesterday, the ones who had the bully boys at their door. Geoff got beaten up on the way home from work, so they decided they had to go. The other girls are frightened it might be us next. I’m not even supposed to be in the flat, am I? I’m just a lodger.’ Kate stopped, feeling breathless. She had clamped down the fear she had felt since they had faced the menacing Alsatian with its stuttering owner on the landing, and now it all seemed to come spilling out and she guessed Barnard could see it written all over her face.
    â€˜Hey, calm down,’ Barnard said, startled.
    â€˜Yes, sorry,’ Kate said, taking a deep breath.
    Barnard put a tentative hand on her arm and his most expansive smile on his face. ‘Come and have a drink,’ he said. ‘The pubs won’t be open yet but there’s a coffee bar up by the tube station. I’ll treat you to the stickiest cake you can find and the frothiest coffee. Come on, get in the car.’ Kate shrugged and did as he asked. She felt so confused by her experiences the previous night and that morning that she could not find any words to argue with Barnard. And she desperately needed a coffee. She would have to report back to Mrs Beauchamp soon, but that could wait for as long as it took to have a drink and see what she could learn from Harry Barnard about the murder and the apparent arrest of Nelson Mackintosh.
    He parked just round the corner from the tube station and they took a table close to the counter in the sergeant’s chosen coffee bar, and he ordered coffee but no cakes.
    â€˜I’m not hungry, la,’ Kate had said dismissively, angry with herself now for succumbing to his blandishments. She sipped her drink slowly for a moment and then offered him a slightly wan smile. ‘I didn’t imagine staying with my friends for a while would lead to all this stuff,’ she said. ‘People getting driven out of their flats, girls getting murdered just down the road. It’s as bad as Soho  . . .’
    â€˜Not quite,’ Barnard said with a grin.