‘I told you that yesterday. A long time.’

‘Good crack, as I recall. But I mean precisely.’

‘Mrs Wilberforce, I…’

She clicked off the recorder. ‘OK. Let me spend a day with you. See what your day is like.’

‘No.’

Tears appearing in the blue eyes seemed to enlarge them and make them not blurry but even more penetrating. ‘Please,’ she said. Her wide, handsome mouth parted, revealing strong white teeth. A vein throbbed in the smooth tan column of her neck.

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Why not?’

‘You guessed right. I’m not actually doing much today. I’ve got a man to see in Granville, later.’ I tapped the package. ‘This has to do with a case but it doesn’t require any significant action today.’ Bugger it, I thought. Why did I tell her that?

She blinked and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. ‘OK,’ she said. She turned the recorder on again and proceeded to interview me politely and intelligently for about twenty minutes, asking sensible, not overly-intrusive questions and making perceptive responses.

‘Thank you for your time, Mr Hardy.’ She spoke without irony or sarcasm. She checked that the recorder had functioned properly, put it away in her bag and stood up. I stood too, and took the hand she extended.

I mumbled something about being glad to help.

‘Are you going to talk to Mr Sanderson’s other class?’

‘I guess so. Why?’

‘No reason. Thanks again. Bye.’

I watched her walk to the door. Her thick blonde hair hung halfway down her back and her movements were graceful. She closed the door and opened it again almost immediately. I caught a flash of her eyes. ‘See you again,’ she said.

The box of bullets had been sent from the Post Office on Broadway near the brewery that used to have a big Tooth’s sign over the gateway.