Will drove a BMW, slightly scuffed around the edges, and he shoved an old sweatshirt and a pile of candy wrappers off the passenger seat so I could get in.

"Kinder Eggs?" I asked, picking one up.

"Guilty secret. I like to build the toys when I'm on stakeout."

"How old are you? Six?"

"Twenty-six, actually."

He ambled around to the driver's side and slipped behind the wheel, and the car started with a barely restrained purr.

"I don't suppose I need to give you my address?"

He tapped the satnav built into the dashboard. "Already programmed in. You realise that building's a health-and-safety violation waiting to happen."

"Is there any other area of my life you want to criticise?"

He grimaced. "Sorry. I just hate to think of you living in a place like that."

"Why would you even care?"

He shrugged. Mr. Eloquent. Will seemed to be good at asking the questions, but not so great at answering them. I wasn't a suspect, so surely he could offer some insight rather than this entire process being one-sided? After all, I didn't want to be there and I'd made that obvious.

"As I only live a fifteen-minute drive away, why don't you start with the questions related to Helene's murder?" I suggested, reaching for the seat belt. The car rocketed forward just as I clicked the catch shut. "Okay, ten minutes if you're going to drive like that."

"Let's start with the obvious—has she told you who killed her?"

"She doesn't know."

"Seriously?"

"Someone grabbed her around the neck and jabbed her with a needle. The next thing she knew, she was looking down at her own body."

"She was drugged?"

"That's what she thinks."

"It's not in the police report. Not yet, anyway. They're still waiting for the rest of the forensics results."

If Will planned to question every one of my answers, this was going to take a long time. Especially when he was the one with dubious information.

"You've seen the police report? I thought that would be confidential."

It wasn't entirely a surprise that Will had access to inside information. He didn't strike me as the type of man who did everything by the book.

And now he smirked. "I'm not supposed to have seen it, so I'd appreciate if you'd keep that part quiet."

"Did Chris Turner give it to you? Or the older cop? I forgot his name."

"No, neither of them. Chris Turner wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire unless he'd filled out the correct form in triplicate first."

"Then—?"

"I got it from another source, who shall remain nameless."

"And Chris Turner? It doesn't sound like you get on so well."

Not that I could blame Will entirely for that. Chris Turner had given off nasty vibes during my interview, and Will undoubtedly knew him better than I did.

"I thought I was supposed to be asking the questions?" Will said.

"If you want me to talk, there's got to be a bit of give and take."

"I wouldn't piss on Chris either. Happy now?"

"Oh, deliriously."

"For a foreigner, you've sure mastered sarcasm well."

How dare he? What did my origins have to do with this case? I unclipped my seat belt. "Stop the car."

He kept driving and even sped up a little.

"Now!"

"No. You agreed we'd talk."

"That was before you insulted me. I may not have lived in England for long, but I've been speaking English since I was three. My father thought it was important to learn a second language, and my childhood nanny came from Essex."

"Really?"

"Syria wasn't always at war, you know. It used to be a beautiful place to live. And since I came to this country, I've tried everything to fit in, including speaking like you people, but every time I set foot outside the flat, I'm still treated like a second-class citizen because I look foreign. Yes, I'm a refugee. But I didn't ask for my entire family to die and my home to be destroyed, and in the time I've been here, I've put more money into your benefits system than I've ever taken out."

I was breathing hard by the time I'd finished, having spilled out words I'd never said to anyone but that I'd been secretly longing to get off my chest for years. And Will didn't snap back at me. Instead, he drove on in silence, leaving me to regret my outburst because he really didn't deserve to be the target of anger I'd been storing up for far too long.

A minute passed. Two. Three. Will lifted his foot off the accelerator, and the car slowed. Sixty... Fifty... Forty...

"I'm sorry," we both said.

I focused on the dashboard in front of me as the car slowed to a halt in a lay-by a couple of miles from home. Airbag inside. The words suddenly became fascinating. Will clicked on the interior light and leaned across, then popped open the glovebox and reached inside.

"Here." He dropped a Kinder Egg into my lap and kept another for himself. "Peace offering. Did you know these were illegal in the US for years? Even though you could buy an assault rifle in Walmart."

"They were? Why?"

"Apparently, the authorities thought people might get confused and eat the toy." He shook his head. "More people choked on hot dogs, and the toys are probably more nutritious than those as well."

I peeled the foil back, hungrier than I cared to admit. My nanny used to bring me these when I was a kid, although the chocolate mostly melted before I got the chance to eat them. I still remembered the collection of tiny toys lined up on my windowsill, high above the jasmine tree. What did I have today? I pulled the two halves of the chocolate apart and popped open the capsule hidden inside. A racing car. I got a racing car. Will leaned over and peered at it.

"Cute. Want to swap for a polar bear?"

"Because you think you're Lewis Hamilton?"

"More that you can be a little frosty."

"Here, have the car if it means that much to you." I glared at him, and too late, I caught the twinkle in his eyes. "I did it again, didn't I?"

He sighed and held out his hand. "How about we start afresh? Will Lawson, private investigator and lover of children's chocolate who puts his foot in his mouth far too often around a certain brunette."

I couldn't help a giggle escaping. What was wrong with me? I never giggled. But I did put my hand into his. "Rania Algafari. Cleaner and seer of dead people who gets tetchy around men who make her nervous."

"Shall we do the questions now?"

I popped a piece of chocolate into my mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Just get them over with."

"When did you first see Helene's...ghost?"

"Ghost... Spirit... Soul... They're all the same thing. The first day I went back to work after the murder."

"In the hallway she was in today?"

"Exactly the same place. The spirits can't move."

"Okay." His deep inhale said he still had a hard time believing me. "And what did she say?"

"She was upset, understandably. And once she realised I could see her, she demanded that I find the person who murdered her and...and...do the same to them."

"Drastic. But like you said, it was probably an understandable reaction."

How much did I tell him? My mother had shared the curse, and since she died, I'd never spoken to another living person about the Electi. Well, apart from Shannon, who pretended she hadn't heard any of it.

"Helene had her reasons."

Wrong thing to say.

"Which were?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

He stared at me for a beat, no words necessary.

"You already think I'm crazy."

He didn't bother to deny it, but who could blame him? The story I was about to tell would have sounded farfetched even in a novel.

"Helene wanted me to kill her murderer because then her soul would be set free."

"Free?"

"To live on Earth again."

Will rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. "And what would happen to the other guy? He'd take her place?"

"No, a soul taken by one of the Electi gets banished. Or so the story goes," I added quickly. "Helene's spirit guide told her all about it."

"That's what you are? An Electi? That means 'chosen' in Latin, right?"

So Will had been well educated, then. My mother taught me basic Latin as soon as I could talk, but few people today still spoke it. A dying language used by a group whose existence revolved around death. Fitting.

"Yes. We've been around for longer, but I don't think there was a proper term for us back then."

"Us? How many?"

"Four."

"Like a club? Do you sit down and chat about these poor lost souls over drinks?"

"I have no idea who the others are. I only know the legend because it was passed down through my family."

"Haven't you ever tried to find them?"

"How? If they're anything like me, they won't exactly publicise their abilities."

"I guess that makes sense. So, what happens to these banished souls?"

"Who knows? I didn't make the rules."

In fact, it was quite fascinating. Time and time again, I'd watched the darkness rise up from a person's body before being scattered in every direction by an unseen force. The force that lurked within me. A force that I both loathed and feared.

Dust to dust.

"What did you tell Helene?" Will asked, interrupting my memories.

"Well, of course I said I couldn't do it. Then she had a rethink and decided jail would be adequate."

"Seems like we've both got the same goal."

"No, my goal is to spend my days babysitting Aisling and watching bad television, clean Daylesford Hall in the evenings, and sleep at night."

"How's that working out for you? The sleeping thing?"

He reached out and lightly traced the skin under my right eye with a fingertip. Little tingles spread through my cheek.

"Not so well," I admitted.

"Me neither. I want to solve this case, perhaps more than any other."

"Why? Helene might have been rich and pretty, but she's got an attitude problem."

"Not because of her. Because I've heard a rumour Chris Turner's after a promotion and he wants to solve it too."

Ah, and we were back to Chris Turner. "What did he do to you?"

We were also back to not answering.

"Look, you've raked over every detail of my life—the least you could do is to be a little forthcoming in return."

"He got me fired."

"Oh."

"From the police."

"I didn't know you were in the police."

"That's because you never asked. All we've done so far is argue. We might as well get married and be done with it."

Another giggle. Seriously, where were they coming from? "What happened?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, as you don't seem to be taking me home..."

Will blew out a long breath, and mist crept across the inside of the windscreen. Spooky. Kind of fitting, considering our reason for being here tonight.

"It was a couple of years ago. We were dealing with a disturbance at a nightclub, and the guy at the centre of it was a first-degree shit. He'd beaten his ex-girlfriend to within an inch of her life and got off on a technicality. So we dragged him out the back door, and I may have dropped him down a flight of steps."

"Well done."

"All Turner had to do was keep his mouth shut and say the guy tripped. But no, he reported me, embellished the details, and got me booted off the force."

"Why?"

"I reckon it was because I used to take the piss a bit because he always insisted on doing everything by the book. Following procedure to the letter, even when it was written by imbeciles with no idea of what goes on in the real world."

"Evil doesn't follow the rules. I learned that back in Syria. Ceasefires got broken, people got shot, bombs got dropped. My parents both died. Nobody listened to reason, and everyone had their own agenda."

This time when Will reached for my hand, it wasn't for the formality of a handshake. Instead, he sandwiched it between both of his, then rubbed his thumb gently over my knuckles.

"I'm so sorry you went through that. And also that you've been treated badly in England. Nobody deserves to go through that."

I swallowed hard. People being nice also made me uncomfortable because they usually had an ulterior motive.

"I just want to move on."

A squeeze of my hand, and this time, little crackles of electricity buzzed up my arm. But before I could process that, Will let go and started the car engine. Warm air blew out of the vents and caressed my face.

"I'm sorry for everything I did this evening. I'll take you home. Here, you can have the polar bear too." He reached out and closed my fingers around it.

"What about your case?"

"I'll work it the old-fashioned way. Somebody must have seen something."

"Arthur did," I blurted.

Will's head snapped around. "Arthur? Arthur... Shit. The guy who took a dive off the balcony. There's another ghost?"

"At the bottom of the stairs in the waiting area. He's mostly cranky."

"What did he see?"

"Helene's killer, or so he says. He won't tell me who it was unless I solve his murder, and guess what? I don't have a clue where to start with that either."

I could almost hear the wheels spinning in Will's head.

"But it gives us another option. We only need to solve one of the crimes, and then we can catch Helene's killer."

"We? What happened to taking me home?"

Will leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "Sorry. I got carried away again."

While he wasn't looking, I took the chance to study Will more closely. Fine worry lines marred his forehead, and the dark circles under his eyes were worse than mine. Plus, now he knew some of my secrets, and he hadn't laughed at me or tried to have me committed.

"I'll help you," I said. "Just with talking to Arthur and Helene. No more."

Those brown eyes popped open, dark yet shiny in the dim glow.

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered otherwise. And I haven't mentioned Arthur's deal to Helene, so do me a favour and keep quiet about that."

If she found out, she'd try to interfere, if only to give me an earful every time I walked past.

"I will, and thank you." He flashed that smile, just for a second, and my heart skipped. "I don't suppose there are any more ghosts lurking?"

"Only two. One never speaks, and Lucy at the front gates didn't see anything useful."

I'd found a few minutes to talk to her late last week, but she'd been more interested in the prospect of snow coming. Vehicles and details and strangers and death weren't priorities in Lucy's life, and I felt a little envious. Stupid, really.

"Nobody coming or going?"

"She saw cars, but her observational skills aren't good. The most I could get out of her were colours—white, blue, several dark 'boxes on wheels' as she calls them, and a cherry-red one that I think was Helene's. Walkers tend to park on the verge inside the gates, so the others could have been anyone. And if I were planning a murder, I'd have come via the network of footpaths, not driven in and risked somebody remembering my registration number."

"Good points. Do you want a job?"

"What, and give up the glamorous career I already have?"

Will put the car into gear and pulled out into traffic. "Time we both got home. I'll do some more research tomorrow and meet you at Daylesford Hall in the evening. Is six o'clock still okay?"

"I can't talk to the spirits until everyone else has gone. I don't think I need to tell you how crazy I look otherwise."

"I'll wait for as long as it takes."

He pulled up outside my building, and a neighbour who was outside smoking stared at the BMW with undisguised curiosity. The car park rarely saw anything classier than a beat-up Nissan Micra.

"See you soon," Will said.

I closed the door and he drove off, leaving me standing among the potholes clutching a tiny polar bear and a plastic racing car so tightly the edges dug into my palm. I didn't know why they mattered to me, but they did.