We sit peacefully briefly.
'Could she have at least something to do with it?' I'm trying in vain – I know it even as I say it. 'The performer lady, I mean. Could she have burst into the lodge and killed Eliza in an attack of desire?'
'Not except if she could fly.' Amaya gives an empty chuckle. 'She was here.'
'You saw her?'
'I'd had an early evening. I could hear her stepping about, music on excessively noisy. Next thing, there was tobacco smoke getting through my window, so I got up to close it and I saw her in the nursery, smoking and drinking – looked like whisky. Liked herself as a pained soul, would spill her guts to whoever would tune in. Poor-me rock chick, you know? Joke.'
'So no then, at that point.' I feel my back bend in frustration, my head drop.
Amaya lights her line, he
