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wondered why she felt it necessary to make this disclaimer.
    â€˜Has Dollimore phoned you, been in contact with you?’
    â€˜Look, I’ve done you a favour, talking to you like this. I think I’ve answered enough questions, don’t you?’
    Margot was expecting a favour in return, but since we both knew that, there didn’t seem much point in repeating it. When she shut the door behind me, I could feel her relief.
    I ducked involuntarily, meeting with the heat again, a solid wall, white and hard and entirely lacking moisture.
    The discount tyre place next door to Margot’s club did not go in for air-conditioning. I stood sweating underneath a fan in a small office, while an adolescent boy went to get the manager.
    I’d told him I was a private investigator who’d been hired by Eden Carmichael’s family. The manager, when he came in, didn’t ask to see my ID, which was just as well. He seemed inclined to treat Carmichael’s demise as a joke. ‘The old fool had it coming to him,’ was his first remark. He looked to be in his mid fifties himself, judging by his weathered face, but his body was straight and hard-looking, and his brown eyes bright with the opportunity for a bit of gossip. I would not have been surprised to find that he was one of Margot’s customers. Mentally, I filed the question away as one I might ask later. Now I wanted to concentrate on January 4.
    â€˜Were you at work?’ I asked him.
    â€˜Yep. I take my holidays in winter. Head up north. We had Christmas week off and re-opened on the third.’
    â€˜Did you see Eden Carmichael arriving?’
    â€˜Can’t say I did.’ The manager looked sorry to be disappointing me. ‘Don’t notice every punter. Some days it’s quiet, some nights the carpark’s full, though they’ve never had a night like that, I must say.’
    â€˜You mean so busy?’
    â€˜I mean with the police cars and the ambulance.’
    â€˜Did you know Carmichael was a regular?’
    â€˜Silly old coot. Poncing in there with his shopping bag. He didn’t care who saw him.’
    â€˜Do you know what was in the bag?’
    â€˜Me and the boys speculated. It was one of those fancy ones with handles.’
    â€˜But you realised what it was once you saw the photo in The Canberra Times .’
    The manager laughed.
    â€˜Any idea who took the photo?’
    â€˜Not a clue.’
    â€˜Did you see anyone with a camera hanging round?’
    â€˜Negative to that too, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜What do you think of the girls?’
    â€˜The girls are nice.’
    I wondered if he was leaving Margot out, making a distinction. ‘Denise?’ I asked.
    â€˜Denny’s gorgeous,’ he said without a hint of embarrassment. I thought he might have answered my curiosity on one point.
    â€˜When did you first know that something was wrong?’
    â€˜When the ambulance came screaming down the road. Thought it was a car smash.’
    â€˜What happened then?’
    â€˜Paramedics dashed inside. When one of them came out, I asked what was going on, but he wouldn’t tell me.’
    â€˜Did the police interview you?’
    â€˜It was getting close to knock-off time. A guy in uniform came over and asked us to wait. He didn’t want us going home until he’d spoken to us.’
    â€˜How many of you were there?’
    â€˜Just me and Robbie. You met Robbie. There’s only three of us. Lex’s got a young family. He takes his leave in January. A detective came and asked us questions, like did we see Carmichael? What time? Who else went in and out?’
    â€˜Did you see anybody else go in that afternoon?’
    â€˜No one. No cars. No taxis. And I can’t imagine Johns catching the bus.’
    â€˜What time did Denise and Margot arrive?’
    â€˜Margot got there first. At lunchtime, around one it would have been. I’d gone round the