Carl had no desire to read the details, but he looked at the picture of Dermot – when he was alive, of course; there was no picture of him dead – and read the story to please Nicola. She wanted to talk about what had happened, as more or less everyone in Maida Vale would now be discussing the case. Why would anyone kill Dermot? Money was the general consensus, or even to steal his phone. Was his phone missing? The newspaper didn’t say. Someone with a lively imagination suggested that a former lover of Sybil Soames, jealous of this new fiancé, had done it. Several residents of Falcon Mews who had never spoken to Carl before approached him in the street when he and Nicola went out to eat, to express their amazement, disgust, horror or disbelief. What a shock it must have been for him and the young lady, said Mr Kaleejah, walking his dog for the third time that day. Nothing like this had ever happened before in the vicinity of Elgin Avenue, said someone else. That it hadn’t been anywhere near Elgin Avenue, Carl didn’t say.
