Maud flashed her ID at the woman at the desk.
‘Can I have a word with Seamus Tyrell?’
‘He’s with a client.’
‘I won’t keep him long.’
The woman sighed and pushed herself out of the chair. A minute later, she returned with Seamus, wearing shorts and a singlet, biceps gleaming with sweat. He glared at her.
‘This isn’t exactly convenient,’ he said. ‘And now half the gym knows there’s a police officer asking me questions.’
‘What was Kira wearing at your party?’
‘How the fuck should I know?’
‘She was there. You saw her.’
‘I don’t know. A dress, maybe. Something short. Lots of leg. Or maybe trousers and a slinky top.’
‘What colour?’
‘Colour?’
‘Yes. Colour.’
‘I didn’t notice.’
‘Bright? Muted?’
‘Is that what you pulled me out to ask me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you were wasting your time and mine.’
‘What was Kira wearing at your party?’
Barney looked as if Maud had woken him up from a midday nap. His eyes were puffy and his joggers and fleece creased. He hadn’t shaved for several days.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Dress? Skirt? Trousers?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe trousers?’
‘Maybe any of those three.’
‘Nothing you can tell me?’
‘Sorry.’
A woman would be more likely to know. Maud rang the bell of the Strausses’ house and stood back, hoping for Michelle, not Dylan. She was in luck.
‘What do you want to know? Haven’t you done enough?’
‘One question. I know you weren’t there, but do you have any idea what Kira wore at Seamus and Barney’s party? Maybe you saw her going in.’
Michelle looked baffled.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Yes, you saw her, or yes, you know?’
‘I know what she wore. She bought it that Saturday afternoon, and we met by chance on the street as she was coming home. It was a skimpy little garment; what do they call it? A sheath. Green and sequined and not much of it. She was very pleased with it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘That’s all?’
‘That’s all.’