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er … just one … but it was very brief … I mean, I put a stop to it. It was very difficult. The situation. She was legally of age.’

‘Could the gentleman in question have held a grudge, had a wife or significant other who …?’

‘No, he was single and came clean to me about the affaire — if you could even call it that. No, it was no secret, not something that Sam could have been holding over anyone, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Could Miss Gibbs have obtained sensitive or incriminating information while at his home?’

‘No … she, er … they, er …’ He coughed over the word ‘hotels’.

‘So,’ responded Trelawney calmly, ‘you would describe her activities as embarrassing rather than scandalous or fraudulent?’

‘Oh, completely, Inspector. She was little more than a child! Not a ... a spy or ... or potential character assassin.’

‘Was either the man in question, or any of your other friends, wealthy?’

‘Well ... I suppose comfortably off, yes. I mean the really loaded one, well, he … he isn’t around anymore.’

‘Oh?’ This had caught Trelawney’s attention. Was there a story here?’

‘He died.’

‘Young?’

‘It was an accident abroad.’

‘And he and Miss Gibbs were close?’

‘No, no, by no means.’ A dead end, thought the inspector and moved on.

‘So you can think of none of your friends who might have provided a source of revenue for your daughter once you restricted her allowance?’

‘Good grief, no. They’re my friends, some of them have children of their own. They understood Sam needed boundaries, especially after that business with ... well …’

‘Yes.’ Trelawney knew about ‘that business’, but it seemed to have little bearing here.

‘Inspector, I wish you could have known Sam when she was a child. She was so different: funny, bright, kind. Then with the divorce, the Loftleighs got a hold on her … and it just …’

‘I believe that is sometimes the case,’ Trelawney replied sympathetically. ‘I appreciate your frankness.’ He rose.

‘Inspector. If you please’ Gibbs gestured towards Trelawney’s sofa. The inspector obligingly sat back down again, anticipating the nugget that so often appeared at the very end of an interview. Damian’s mood has changed. It was less of the helpless parent and more of the Someone in the City now.

‘I don’t want to put the pressure on.’

Yes. You do, thought Trelawney.

‘But,’ continued Gibbs, ‘this is drawing undesirable attention to the asthma clinic.’

‘Just the clinic?’

‘Very well. Yes, my other very considerable business interests too. I don’t want to appear unfeeling, and of course, the primary concern is to discover and expose whoever committed this appalling crime against my daughter. ‘

He paused, looking squarely and purposefully into Trelawney’s eyes.

‘Nevertheless, I have to be practical. I can’t bring Samantha back. I can’t help her. However, the clinic does help people, and I am not the only sponsor. This is not the kind of thing the other sponsors want to read about in the morning papers over their breakfast tea. Yet another scandal linked to the clinic.’

Now the friendly, self-made London boy was gone. Gibbs lowered his voice but enunciated clearly.

‘This needs to be resolved. This needs to be resolved … quickly.’

‘I understand.’

‘Please call me if there is anything you need in order to press forward with your investigation. I am now busy with a damage limitation exercise, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you.’

The interview was clearly at an end. There was something Gibbs wasn’t sharing, but Trelawney knew he would get no more from the man today. He rose once more.

‘Thank you, Mr Gibbs, for your time and for making your position clear. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, please let me know.’

As Trelawney drove west, back to London, he pondered if Damian Gibbs would have shown the harder side of himself if Miss Cadabra had been present. Yet this was not the granite of Veronica. Gibbs was being practical, as he said, and there were no veiled threats of his ex-wife’s kind. Damian Gibbs had no need to wield the whip of an influential relative as Veronica had done with her father. Oh no, Gibbs was powerful enough on his own account. And he had just made sure Trelawney was aware of that.

The question was, how far did Damian’s will and influence extend? What if his errant daughter was about to create another scandal? This was a man of purpose. What if his purpose had been to put an end to Samantha Gibbs’s embarrassing and damaging activities, once and for all?

Chapter 27

Hotting Up

Trelawney looked at the caller ID on his phone and answered.

‘Mike?’

‘Thomas. I won't beat about the bush, lad. I've had a call from Francis.’

‘Oh.’ Hogarth was referring to Francis Maxwell, Thomas's official boss.

‘'Yes. He's being leaned on from above. He asked me to give you a friendly call and encourage progress A.S.A.P. Is there any?’

‘Just a growing list of suspects.’

‘No evidence?’

‘No smoking gun.’

‘Forensics?’

‘Only what you'd expect: the librarians’ finger and footprints, and those of library users. No useful traces.’

‘You need to pull a rabbit out of the hat, Thomas.’

‘I know. So far there is nothing to link Samantha Gibbs to Sunken Madley Library.’

‘The link is there, lad. You'll find it. Just use all of your resources. All of them.’

‘Understood.’

‘I’ll keep the Huns at the gate for as long as I can, Thomas. As long as I can.’

‘Thanks, Mike.’

Trelawney hung up and thought. He re-read the transcripts of Baker’s and Nikolaides’s respective interviews with Pamela and Simon Lawley. They’d arrived at the library with Samantha, then she’d gone off on her own. Lawley and Pamela had become separated when Simon had got chatting to John Bailey-Farrell, and Pamela had gone to have a look around the library. No, she hadn’t seen Samantha again. Ditto from Lawley. Neither of them could think of anyone who would want to harm her.

Trelawney sat in his Mondeo parked outside the library, tapping the steering wheel. He picked up his phone again.

‘Miss Cadabra?’

‘Inspector?’

She sounded pleased to hear from him, probably hoping he

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