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There, just beside the handle, was a little keyhole. I knelt and slid in the key; it fitted perfectly. I flicked the clasps, lifted the lid and stared at what was hidden inside.

Ribbon. Yard after yard of it, in white and green and purple. The exact same kind of ribbon that I had pulled from the hole in Constable Watts’s throat.

‘Halloa!’ said a cheerful voice behind me.

I spun around, just in time to see a young woman swing a violin at my head.

24

Monday, 19 June, 10.18 a.m.

I opened my eyes, then closed them again. Terrible idea.

‘Right! You can jolly well pick yourself up off the floor and start explaining what you’re doing here!’

I opened my eyes again. I was lying face down on the hearth rug with a pounding head. It all felt very familiar. The key difference was that, this time, a young lady was standing over me and waggling a violin like a club.

‘Come on, spill the beans!’ she said. ‘Or … or whatever it is they say. What are you – journalist? Police?’

I was enjoying being prone, if I’m honest, but I didn’t have time for it. ‘Flora Gifford?’ I croaked. ‘Lavinia Welford’s roommate?’

Her face lit up. ‘I say, that’s rather clever. How did you know?’

I sat up, wincing. ‘Your name’s on the door. I’ve been hired to find Lavinia Welford. I work for a lady named Miss Decima Stockingham and –’

I barely got the words out – Flora was so shocked, she almost dropped the violin. ‘You work for Miss Decima! Why didn’t you say so?’

I considered pointing out that she’d knocked me unconscious before I’d had the chance to say anything. ‘You know Miss Decima?’

‘Of course!’ said Flora. ‘My godmother hired her last year when her family jewellery went missing. Do you know, it was the butler all along?’

‘Goodness.’

Flora held out a hand. ‘Oh! Whatever must you think of me! I’m dreadfully sorry, I never would have hit you if I’d known you were working for Miss Decima!’

I let her heave me to my feet, wincing. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not the first time I’ve been knocked out. First time with a violin, though.’

‘It’s a viola,’ Flora corrected. ‘Luckily this is just what I use for practice. If I’d hit you with my Cremona, you really would be spitting teeth! I’d never hit you with that, of course, because it was a gift from Uncle Egg and worth an absolute fortune. Pater would have my guts for garters!’

Between my concussion and her vocabulary, I understood two words of every five she said. Flora was probably the poshest person I’d ever met. She had that look, too: pale complexion, wide, watery eyes, tons of excellent hair.

‘So … the police have already searched Lavinia’s room, then?’ I asked, lowering myself shakily into a chair.

Flora nodded hotly. ‘Yes! They were here yesterday evening and they were awful, absolutely dreadful. Turned everything upside down and asked me so many questions that I thought I was going to go mad. The things they accused her of! They kept going on about some knife of hers, but I told them it had been missing for weeks …’

My ears pricked up. ‘A double hollow-ground reed knife, with L. A. W. on the handle?’

Flora was impressed. ‘I say, you’re terribly good at this. Yes, Lavinia was so upset about losing it. She swore blind that someone must have stolen it from her room, but I told her, “Why on earth would someone do that?”’

I thought back to Watts – the gaping throat – and stifled a small, dangerous burp. I pointed to the cello case on the floor, spilling ribbons. ‘The police didn’t think to go through that?’

She shook her head. ‘Ha! No, I told them it was mine! Stupid, beastly oafs, the lot of them. They had no idea that Lavinia played the cello as well as the bassoon. I mean, her bowing’s not up to much, she really is a woodwind player first and foremost, but you have to admire her spirit nonetheless.’ She paused for a second, tugging at her fingers nervously. ‘It … it’s not true, what they said, is it? That she killed that man?’

I thought about what Miss Decima would do in my position. I knew absolutely nothing about Flora Gifford – no idea whether I was supposed to trust her. There is no better way to reveal someone’s true motivations than by first disarming them.

‘Lavinia is currently the chief suspect in the murder of a police officer,’ I said. ‘Her missing reed blade was found under his body. A length of that ribbon’ – I pointed at the case – ‘was found stuffed down his slashed throat, too.’

Flora was speechless. Then, very slowly, she sank into the chair opposite me. Her face had turned even paler.