Kirsty Lindsay is a very busy woman. Since he located her outside the daily police briefing, he has followed her all over town, and laid out what would usually be a week’s living money on entrance fees and related expenses. He has followed her into the amusement park, ridden the train on the pier three carriages behind her, bought five cups of tea, two glasses of cola, a bacon sandwich, a chicken burger, three pounds’ worth of tokens for the machines in the arcade, two newspapers and four bus tickets and now, after a trip to the cash dispenser, has spent fifteen pounds on the entrance fee to DanceAttack. But he still hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to her and, to his astonishment, she’s acted like she’s not noticed him at all. He waits by the dance floor and watches as she works the room. She stands out like a nun in a brewery in a crowd whose average age barely brushes the legal drinking limit. He nods with approval as she buys fizzy water at the bar.
