She stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, hurried along the corridor.
To a certain extent, he thought, Frick was right. Policewomen were different.
As she stepped into the hall at number thirty-four, Belinda said, ‘I’m here to give you a message from the inspector.’
‘Report at the police station at o nine hundred hours?’ he suggested bitterly.
‘There’s fresh evidence which proves you had no part in your wife’s death or that of Melanie Caine’s; that you are completely innocent.’
He spoke slowly. ‘Now I know what it’s like to be told it was a mistake and one is not fatally ill. We must celebrate ...’ He stopped abruptly; he was ignoring her aversion to being told what to do.
She came forward, joined her hands behind his neck. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me how we must celebrate?’
Damned by Logic Page 19