Kerrie’s hand has moved to cover mine. Her face is full of concern.

“Are you unwell, sweetheart? You’ve gone very pale.”

“You said three people died. Helen Sutton. Bob Hodgson.” And now my mouth’s so dry I can scarcely move my tongue. “Who…who was the third?”

We walk back to Redheugh Close in silence. The feeling that something isn’t quite right is impossible to escape.

Because Helen Sutton died the same night as Bob Hodgson, that’s why.

If only I could wrap my head around the implications of that one simple sentence.

I hang back a few feet, allowing Kerrie to pay her respects to a woman she never met by resting a simple spray of roses on the bare earth. Then I notice the headstone, no more than nine or ten inches high. An epitaph has been written on it, and in French.

The game is up...

“There’s no need to pull a face like you’ve just swallowed a bluebottle, sweetheart. Your name only came up after I happened to mention that as I hoped to do a spot of amateur sleuthing while I was here, it would be nice if I could hire a trusty sidekick to help me out for a day or two. Norah says a break like that will do you a power of good, so consider yourself roped in.”

“A man is following you. He’s armed, and he may be under orders to kill you.”

I feel my whole body go rigid. I’ve heard that voice before, and not so very long ago...