‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘Fine. I’m fine,’ said Annie, drawing in a shuddering breath. Now, at last, she could believe it. Dolly really was dead. Here was where it had happened, where some creep had snatched her life away. Grief and anger warred inside Annie. Anger won, just. It took an effort of will to hold her voice steady, not to shout or cry. ‘You got any idea who did this? Why they did it?’
‘Well, it wasn’t robbery,’ said Hunter. ‘The safe in the office hasn’t been opened, and all Thursday’s takings were still in there, untouched. The keys were in her handbag. So was her cash, and credit cards. Nothing taken out of the bag at all, so far as we can see.’
Annie nodded. It would feel better if money had been the motivation. The fact that it wasn’t made it more personal. Or maybe this was just some random nutter at work. Then she had a horrible thought.
‘She wasn’t…?’ she started, and then found she couldn’t say it.
But Hunter understood. ‘No evidence of sexual assault. It was quick, Mrs Carter. Almost instantaneous. We’ve fingerprinted all the staff and Ellie and Chris Brown, and if you would come down to the station later we’ll take yours too.’
‘I haven’t been here recently,’ Annie pointed out. ‘And my dabs are on your files, anyway.’
Hunter gave her a long look. He knew her history; she’d been busted for running that disorderly house in Mayfair. ‘I’d like to take them again, even so.’
‘You’re looking at the nearest and dearest, right?’ said Annie. ‘Close friends, close family. You look to them first to find killers.’
‘Sadly, we do.’
Annie stared at him steadily. ‘You’ve already checked whether I’ve been back here in the past few months. Checked with the airlines?’
‘Yes. I have. And you have, haven’t you? Brief stops in London, then on to the States or up to Scotland. What were you doing up there, Mrs Carter?’
Annie shrugged. ‘Just playing tourist. I like it up there,’ she said, hoping he’d drop it, hoping he hadn’t delved too deeply into any of it.
He was moving around the room, looking at the rug, the door. He bent down and stared closely at the blood on the hearth. Then he looked up at her. ‘You’re sure you know nothing about her relatives?’
‘Nothing at all,’ said Annie, stifling a wave of guilty irritation. Of course he’d had to check. What else did she expect? And she’d fronted it out, anyway. It was OK.
‘Any lovers at all? However far back in the past? Anyone?’
