31.

That night, as the kitchen clock ticked increasingly closer towards the time Alice needed to leave to meet Jinx, she busied herselfwith a cupboard stores audit, getting increasingly apprehensive about getting caught sneaking out.

Monsieur Messent was once again absent, having not been back since he’d left just after dawn. But Camille remained working in her study, meaning Alice was still on call.

Finally, at just gone ten, Camille did appear, in stylish yoga attire, and informed Alice that Laura was staying at her friend’s house for the night.

‘But I thought you wanted some time with her?’ Alice asked.

‘I did, earlier on,’ Camille replied, with a shrug. ‘But she’s a sixteen-year-old and she clearly got a better offer than her old mother.’

Alice smiled. Camille was most definitely not old.

‘But, you know, maybe it’s for the best. I’m going to take that bath you suggested and a sleeping pill.’

‘Not before the bath,’ Alice warned. ‘You can’t fall asleep in the water.’

‘Ah, but you are sweet,’ Camille said. ‘No, I just need a proper sleep. I’m so tired.’

As Alice wished her a pleasant night, she felt wretched. Not just about all this sneaking around, which was unavoidable, but about what she’d learned from Barney about Camille’s husband. What kind of man was he not to be there when his wife had come back from a gruelling trip, or to leave her home alone on a Saturday night? She wasn’t one to judge, but Alex Messent didn’t seem remotely up to scratch as a husband in her opinion.

Upstairs, with Agatha snoring quietly, and now knowing that Camille would be unlikely to wake up, Alice attempted to make up her face in her little room’s en suite bathroom, but only succeeded in feeling like a clown.

At eleven o’clock, Alice took the green sequinned dress from the plastic carrier bag she’d hidden under her bed and changed. Taking Jinx’s handbag, she checked out her reflection one last time in the mirror on the back of the door. The clothes looked great, but as for her … gosh, she really wasn’t sure if she was up to this. What if when she got there, everyone just stared at her for all the wrong reasons? She slipped on her spinner necklace for courage.

Agatha, stirring, cocked her head on one side. Alice sat beside her, tickling her ears as she explained that she would be out for an hour at the most and Agatha was not to breathe a word.

‘Shh,’ Alice said, putting her finger to her lips, before backing out slowly from the room.

Out in the corridor, she stood still for a moment, listening to the house, silent except for the distant tick of the clock. Then, blowing out a breath of resolve, she tiptoed along the corridor and down the stairs, high heels in her hand.

‘What on earth do you look like?’ Jinx asked, peering down at her from the pavement, as Alice climbed out of the cab onto Berkeley Square. She tugged at the collar of the coat that Alice had thrown on top of the dress in case she’d bumped into anyone on the way out of the house — and to make herself feel less self-conscious. ‘Take that off immediately. You’re not Inspector Clouseau.’

‘But it’s freezing.’

‘Yes, well sometimes the cost of being fashionable is being bloody cold,’ Jinx said, as if this were a given fact. ‘Come on, get with the programme. You’ve been to clubs before.’

‘Not for a hundred years.’

Alice tried to look calm and cool as she stared up at the flower-studded Georgian façade of Annabelle’s. But the thud of the music coming from inside only matched her racing heart as they waited in the roped-off guest list queue. At the front, smart bouncers flanked a young woman wearing a black suit and an earpiece, who was checking each guest off against a list on her iPad.

‘Stop tugging at the hem and stand up tall,’ Jinx said. ‘Honestly, you look sensational, but we’re going straight to the loos so I can fix your face.’

‘What’s wrong with my face?’ Alice asked.

‘Everything. You need way more make-up.’

‘Do I?’ Alice asked, alarmed. She’d given it her best shot, but Jinx gave her a look as if she was crazy.

Jinx herself was wearing a black sculpted mini dress, which showed off her legs, and her chest was covered in a subtle sheen of glitter. Her hair was perfectly coiffed in a side up-do and her eye make-up was heavy and shiny, her lips glossy. It must have taken her hours to look like that.

When they finally reached the front of the queue, Jinx dropped the names of some old staff members that were clearly lost on the young woman. For one dreadful moment, Alice thought they might be turned away, but then she caught the eye of the bouncer behind her.

‘Elijah? Is that you?’ she asked, squinting.

The bouncer’s face lit up into a grin, just like when he’d been a little boy. He looked exactly like his mother.

‘Miss B! Jinx!’ Tiffany’s son said, stepping forward and unclipping the rope. He nodded at the girl with the iPad who instantly turned her attention to the people in the queue behind them. It was on the tip of Alice’s tongue to tell him that he’d grown — although that would only be stating the bleedin’ obvious, as Mrs Doulton would have said. He must have been at least six foot four now. After a quick chat he ushered them through the door and pointed out the cloakroom. ‘So nice to see you two,’ he said. ‘Anything you need. Anything at all, just holler.’

‘Holler,’ Jinx said, laughing. ‘He sounds exactly like Tiff.’

They went straight to the plush ladies’ cloakroom, where Jinx set her cosmetic bag out by the mirror and quickly set about sorting Alice’s eye make-up.

‘You see,’ Jinx said, after five minutes, ‘gorgeous.’

Alice stood back and appraised herself in the long mirror. She had to lean forward to check it was really her. Her eyes were enormous, surrounded by green glitter.

‘Ready?’ Jinx asked, as she pushed through the doors, and walked into the main club, feeling suddenly as if she were twenty again.

As they walked past the dance floor – a sea of throbbing bass and bodies — it was all Alice could do not to laugh. Because nobody seemed to spot what an imposter she was. In fact, from where they stood in various clusters, the other women seemed to be looking her up and down with approval. So this was it, the real power of designer clothes, she supposed.

‘I’m old enough to be a mother to some of them,’ she said to Jinx.

‘So? Age really doesn’t matter as much as you think it does. And, you don’t look it really.’ She grinned. ‘Neither of us do.’

Jinx continued to survey the crowd, hauling Alice further round the edge of the dance floor. Alice had no idea how to look cool like the couples moving beside them in the strobing lights and her feet were already killing her in her high heels.

‘Can’t we sit down?’ she begged Jinx. ‘Those booths look good.’

‘Uh, uh,’ she said, still cruising around until she stopped suddenly. She turned round to face Alice, her eyes wide as she clutched Alice’s arm.

‘He’s there. Behind me. Twelve o’clock to you. And he’s alone. Look. Very end of the bar.’

Alice glanced over Jinx’s shoulder, and there was Laars. He was wearing a shiny navy suit and a black pin-striped shirt, sat in a casual man-spread with one foot up on the bottom of the next stool, his soft navy suede loafer revealing his bare ankle.

Alice shuddered and pulled a face at Jinx.

‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘We’d better get on with this.’

‘Oh, no, Alice. I’m not sure I can face him. He might be … cross with me.’ Jinx, clearly having cold feet about confronting her ex. ‘It’ll be better if it’s just you.’

‘Really? You’re sure?’ The disco ball made little squares of light dance over Jinx’s face. She was serious, so Alice made her way over to the bar, until she came to a stop a couple of bar stools away from Laars.

She watched in the mirror behind the bottles on the bar as he tugged on the collar of his shirt and then shook his arm. Alice noticed the flash of his chunky watch.

‘What can I get you?’ the bartender asked Alice.

‘I’m … er … my friend’s getting a booth I think, but a glass of—’

‘Another flute for the lady,’ Laars interrupted, and she turned to see him flicking his finger at the bartender. In a second, he’d moved, with alarming speed — rather like one of those velociraptors from that film she’d watched at Christmas with her nephews – and was next to her holding a sweating bottle of Veuve Clicquot in his hand. ‘Allow me.’

Alice smiled nervously and fiddled with her spinner necklace, as Laars grinned and poured her a glass. His sandy hair was in the same style as it had always been, but his face was even more tanned than she remembered and a lot craggier. It was interesting how men aged in such a different way to women, Alice thought. Laars was almost wearing his wrinkles like a badge of honour. If only women were allowed to do the same.

‘Er … thank you,’ Alice said. He clearly didn’t have a clue who she was, but she could feel him appraising her – her shoes, her legs, her dress, her hair and make-up. Despite herself, it felt sort of thrilling to be admired.

‘May I?’ he asked and before she’d had a chance to answer, sat on the bar stool next to her. Boy, he was a smooth operator.

‘Cheers,’ he said, tipping the rim of his glass towards hers, giving her a flirty upward glance. Was it really this easy to get chatting to a man? All these years she’d been single and all it might have taken to meet someone was to dress up and sit at a bar on her own in a racy club. What had stopped her? Why hadn’t she done this before? Because she was definitely getting a buzz out of this.

But then, if she had, the person she might have met might have turned out to be someone like Laars. No, this wasn’t the place for her – or ever had been, but that didn’t stop it being fun to pretend to be someone she wasn’t for one night only.

‘Cheers.’ She smiled.

‘That’s better. A smile on that lovely face.’

Ick. Alice grimaced awkwardly and took a sip of the champagne, the fizz stinging her tongue. She and Jinx hadn’t really made a plan about exactly how to extract information from Laars about the night of Enya’s murder. But the fact he was clearly already squiffy would probably help. A little shock and awe probably wouldn’t hurt either, Alice thought. Put him firmly on his back foot.

‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ she said, adding what she hoped was a steely little squint to her eyes.

‘Erm …’ His own eyes narrowed, as he looked her up and down. ‘No … did we, um?’

‘No,’ Alice said, cutting him off, ‘we most certainly did not. But you do remember Jacinda, don’t you?’

‘Jinx?’ His lewd grin was back, his eyebrows bobbing knowingly. ‘Oh yah, like a million years ago.’ He guffawed and shook his head as if was about to say something derogatory before Alice quickly cut him off again.

‘She’s a friend. My best friend. We were at school together. I’m Alice Beeton,’ she said. ‘Now do you remember me, Laars?’

‘Alice …’ Blinking, he peered in even closer. ‘Yes … hell’s bells, yes, of course … it’s all coming surging back now …’

‘The wedding …? I was her maid of honour.’

‘Ha. My God.’ He rubbed his chin, like he’d just fallen for a particularly clever magic trick. ‘I’d never have recognised you.’ In light of his earlier attempt to chat her up, she could now see a sharp dose of awkwardness dawning on him too – leaving him torn between the person he thought she was and the person before him now. ‘And I don’t just mean because we’re older. Just … you know … you look … great. I mean, seriously. Like, wowzer.’

Alice, despite herself, felt the compliment fan her ego. She looked away to hide her rather inappropriate smile, but turning back then saw that Laars was pointing his phone at her … well, not all of her, just her … legs.

‘Did you just photograph me?’ she asked.

‘No.’ He shook his head vigorously.

She didn’t believe him for a second, but demanding to see his phone would only bring this conversation to an end. He really was creepy.

‘Isn’t it funny that we’re still moving in the same circles?’ she said through gritted teeth instead, quickly turning her mind back to the matter in hand. ‘Because I thought I saw you at the Messents’ at New Year. I wanted to say hi, but I wasn’t sure it was you.’

‘Yah, yah, I was there,’ he said, sliding his arm around the back of the seat behind her.

Alice stiffened but forced herself to smile. ‘You were with Thérèse, weren’t you?’ she probed, taking another sip of champagne. ‘You know, Camille’s secretary?’

‘Who?’ Laars screwed up his nose.

‘Thérèse.’ Alice spelled the two syllables out nice and slowly, so even Laars couldn’t fail to understand. ‘Yes, you seemed pretty preoccupied with her, actually. That’s why I didn’t approach you.’

Laars pulled a face, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about, then puffed out his cheeks as if trying to remember a past transgression. ‘Maybe, I don’t know. I was pretty smashed by that point, to be honest. I’d been out for lunch and had been mainlining champers all afternoon. But, you know, I do remember some broad flirting with me. Never been a fan of the French ones, though, entre nous …’

‘I wasn’t at the party long,’ Alice said. ‘I missed what happened.’ She said these last few words in a stage whisper right into his ear. She’d remembered how much Laars loved gossip – particularly when he had the inside skinny himself. ‘Were you there?’ She leant towards him. ‘Only I heard it was dreadful. That poor girl …’

‘Christ, yes. I mean, what can I tell you?’ Laars was now leaning forward too.

‘Oh, everything,’ Alice said.

‘I remember the Messents were both at the front of their ballroom, and she was banging on about her charity. Camille Messent, that is. Yadda, yadda. Starving kids or immigrants or some such. You know, the usual.’ Laars took another glug of his fizz. ‘And I kind of slipped out then. Got bored. Went to the loo or for a smoke or something … and then, when I got back, everyone was going bloody nuts … and, yah, the police were called and we were told to wait around … I mean, the whole evening went pretty much tits up after that …’ He rolled his eyes. ‘And all over some maid, apparently … you know, just some nobody in the wrong room at the wrong time …’

Some maid. It was all Alice could do not to throw her champagne in his face. But then she’d be betraying how interested she was and he’d only clam up. God, what a bloody awful human being he was.

‘It’s just ironic it happened at their party, that’s all. When they’re all about being perfect,’ he said, topping up his glass.

‘Perfect?’

‘Yah. You know. It’s all about the virtue signalling with those people. I’ve seen it all before. A room full of sycophants …’

When Laars himself surely qualified as the biggest sycophant of the lot? Another thought Alice kept to herself.

‘Oh,’ she asked instead. ‘You don’t approve?’

‘Let’s put it this way. While the Messents clearly act like they’re chocolate, I’ve heard some things.’ He tapped the side of his nose.

‘Oh? What?’ Alice felt her pulse starting to race. Maybe something useful might come out of her conversation with this idiot after all.

‘He’s … well … they say he’s dodgy.’

‘Dodgy? Alex Messent, you mean?’

‘I don’t think even I’d do business with him, if you know what I mean?’

No, Alice did not. But she said nothing, just let the silence run. Because the other thing she’d remembered about Laars was just how much he loved the sound of his own voice. Meaning it was only a matter of time before he’d fill the void.

‘Russians,’ he said.

‘Russians?’

‘Yup, that’s what the word is. That he’s in bed with the swine. Oligarchs. The unsavoury ones.’

Like there was another kind. ‘Oh?’

‘Just rumours. I mean, you can’t prove anything. Someone like Messent keeps things squeaky clean, but still waters run deep, eh? Yep, he’s connected. Right to the top of the rotten pile. And with all the protection that comes with it.’

‘Protection?’

‘Good God, yes. These aren’t Boy Scouts we’re talking about here. The only law they respect is their own. And you go messing with them … mark my words, there’ll be blood on the floor.’

But what kind of blood? Alice wondered. That of rival gangsters and businesspeople? Or innocents like Enya too?

Laars drained his glass and hid a revolting little belch behind the back of his hand, as though drawing a line under the conversation.

‘But enough about them,’ he said. ‘What about you, babe?’ He tried that eye smouldering thing he’d actually been rather adept at in his youth — partly what had first drawn Jinx in, she’d always sworn – but it now just made him look like he was squinting. ‘You know, I never realised you were so attractive,’ he said. ‘You were always so mousey, back in the day. I could never understand why a wildcat like Jinx kept you on as a friend, but I’m beginning to see now.’

He leant in to touch her hair, but Alice flinched out of the way, so much so that his lunge turned into a lurch and he had to grab onto the bar to stop himself toppling off his stool.

Alice stood up. ‘I think I’d better go. Thank you for the champagne,’ she said, looking at her barely touched glass and back at him.

Having righted himself, Laars was now trying to recover his cool by leaning on the bar as if nothing had happened.

‘Oh, don’t be like that,’ he said. ‘Stay. Have another. We’re only just getting to know each other again.’

But Alice was already walking away from him as fast as she could.

Back on the dance floor, out of sight of Laars, Jinx hooked her into a tight embrace.

‘What did he say?’ she shouted over the music.

‘I can’t believe you married him,’ Alice shouted back.

‘I know. I know.’ Jinx shrugged. ‘But he really was rather splendid in bed.’

‘Even though he wore socks?’ Alice said, reminding her of their conversation.

Jinx laughed.

‘Let’s get out of here. I can’t hear a bloody word,’ Alice said.

‘Oh, come on. Let your hair down. Now that you’re here, let’s dance,’ Jinx implored, clearly pretty squiffy herself, pulling Alice back towards the dance floor.

‘I can’t. I snuck out, remember?’ Alice said.

But a man half Jinx’s age was now rushing up to them, and from the way Jinx giggled, they’d clearly been chatting already. He was holding two shot glasses, one of which he handed to Jinx. She clinked his glass and they downed the shot. Jinx laughed and patted her chest and as she breathed out, Alice caught a waft of the alcohol fumes. The man took Jinx’s hand now, pulling her away from Alice and luring her onto the dance floor and Alice saw that a serious chat was going to be impossible.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ Alice said, making an old-fashioned hand gesture for the phone.

‘Come and dance.’

‘No,’ Alice said, shaking her head, then gesturing to the door.

Grinning, Jinx blew her a kiss, before allowing herself to be swept away.

After she’d called a taxi, Alice grabbed her coat from the cloakroom and squeezed out past the queue of people waiting to go in. Elijah, surprised she was leaving but polite enough not to enquire why, got the rope for her as if she were a celebrity. He really was a lovely boy, Alice thought.

It was a sheer relief to be outside. Away from all that noise. And, more importantly, away from Laars. She didn’t stop until she reached the corner of the street where she’d arranged to be picked up, shivering, with the night air cold on her bare arms. She was just about to put on her coat, when she became aware of someone crossing the road towards her.

‘Miss Beeton?’ a familiar voice said. ‘Alice?’

Detective Rigby. Yes, it really was him. Alice felt a little rush of adrenaline course through her. Because he’d just caught her red-handed, dressed up to the nines and still interfering with the case he’d told her to leave alone? Or because, well, just because he was here, and smiling, at her?

He pointed his keys at a black Mercedes on the other side of the road and its headlights blinked twice as it locked. He must have stopped in a hurry, as it was parked on a red line.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said. ‘I was driving past and …’ his eyebrows knitted together, and she felt a blush starting in her toes and rising up to her cheeks as he took in her attire ‘ … and so … yes …’ he looked suddenly awkward, like he might have overstepped some mark ‘ … so you look like you’re having fun? A special occasion?’ he asked.

‘A friend’s birthday,’ she fibbed. ‘I’ve left them to it, though,’ she added, nodding towards the club. ‘I’m just going home.’

‘I’m on duty,’ he said. ‘But I can call you a cab.’ He smiled down at her Prada heels. ‘They don’t exactly look built for hiking.’

‘Thank you, but I’ve already got one coming.’

There was another awkward beat as she thought about what she’d just found out about Alex Messent from Laars. And what she’d learned from Barney too. In fact, maybe the two things were related. Perhaps Messent owed gambling debts to these Russian gangsters. But even if this were true, what could it possibly have to do with Enya’s death?

Rigby was the last person she could confide in anyway. He’d already banned her from having anything more to do with the case. And God only knew how much trouble she’d be in if he found out what she’d been up to.

But even so, there was no denying it either. She was enjoying the thrill of it all. Including right here, right now, with Rigby again looking her over like he might have misjudged her and was now seeing her in a completely different light.

‘You don’t have any more information … about Enya, do you?’ she couldn’t help herself asking, as he started to walk away. ‘From the powers that be. Upstairs?

‘No. Sorry,’ he said, with a shrug.

‘Shame,’ she said and there was a beat as his eyes met hers. Was he going to say more? For a moment, she thought he might, but then he smiled bashfully and pointed back towards his car.

‘I’d better go …’ he said. ‘Good to see you, Alice. Get home safely.’

He left her to cross the road and she saw him look back, not once, but twice. Still shivering as she was, she kept her coat draped over her arm. Did he glance her way again as his car pulled out into the road? Yes, she was certain he did. She put her hand up in an attempt at a wave.

But gazing down at her dress and shoes, she smiled, enjoying the thrill of this too, of being here, in disguise. Because right now, she wasn’t just a cake-baking busybody at all, but a sequin-clad femme fatale. And it felt …?

It felt tip-top.