That does it, folks…' 'No! Hold on. I need an answer, Jay. It was your telly programme that suggested she was so smashed up by little Emily's drowning that she was fair game for anyone. If she's innocent, then who's guilty? And I don't just mean of the murder. Who was it who twisted her arm till she stuck it up?' Now Waggs is on his feet, drawing Kohler upright too. Jacklin leans over to the mikes and says, 'I cannot allow my client to answer that question outside of a courtroom. We must remember the law of defamation…' 'Defamation nothing! You can't defame the dead,' yells Blindcrake. 'And isn't the guy most likely the late Detective-Superintendent Walter Tallantire, then Head of Mid-Yorkshire CID?' Waggs is urging Kohler off the platform. Any discipline the press conference might have had is rapidly disappearing. Cameramen and reporters jostle each other in their efforts to get near the woman. They spill out of the body of the hall and get between her and the door. The air is filled with a blizzard of flash bulbs and a babble of voices. '… What about compensation?… Will you go back to the States?… Are you suing the police?… Is it true you've written your memoirs?…

How much are they paying?… Have you heard from James Westropp?.

.. What's his son Philip doing now?… Did you mean to drown the kid?… Is it true you're going into a nunnery?… Was Daphne Bush your lover?…' Three uniformed policemen have appeared. They clear a path to the door. One of them flings it open. A camera peers through, momentarily revealing a long corridor in which several men are standing. Then Kohler and Jacklin are through. Waggs turns in the doorway, helping the police to block pursuit. Someone shouts, 'Hey, Jay. When they make the movie, how about Schwarzenegger playing you?'

Waggs grins and says, 'Thank you for your courtesy, gentlemen, and ladies. That's it. End of story.'

He steps back through the door. A policeman pulls it shut behind him.