Will looked out of place sitting at one end of the tiny table in our dining area. I couldn't say dining room because our flat just wasn't that big—all we had was a gap between the back of the sofa and the door to the kitchen. And only two proper chairs. Shannon sat lower than us on the fold-up stool she'd taken to some fancy outdoor opera with Slick Dick. Will had offered her one of the proper seats, but she'd insisted that as he was the guest, he should use the good furniture. That was Shannon all over.

Today, she served up chicken in breadcrumbs with colcannon, followed by treacle tart. It always amazed me how many dishes she could cook, but she'd been brought up by a grandma who knew a thousand and one recipes for potatoes, and then she'd begun experimenting herself as soon as she was old enough.

"Tastes great," Will told her. "Better not tell RJ, or you'll be needing to buy another one of those fold-up seats."

"Who's RJ?" Shannon asked.

"His housemate," I told her.

"Oh, do you live near here?"

As usual, Shannon took over the conversation, one which veered from living arrangements to local restaurants, but I didn't mind. It gave me the chance to listen to Will's voice and watch his face as he spoke, without facing the pressure of having to think up answers. Something told me my usual evasive tactics wouldn't work with him.

And I wasn't sure I wanted them to.

Will was the one man I could see breaking through my walls, and that both scared and tantalised me. Something had woken inside, a buzz different to the tension that usually tied my belly up in knots, and I hadn't yet fathomed out what to do about it.

But at least with Shannon making Will promise to come back tomorrow because she was making spaghetti with meatballs, I had time to think it over.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, kissing Shannon on the cheek when he got up to leave. "I look forward to it."

She giggled, then rushed off to the kitchen.

"Are you coming to Daylesford Hall in the day again tomorrow?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I want to pay a visit to Arthur's widow."

"She still lives around here?"

"According to land records, their old house is still in her name. It's a ten-minute drive from Weston Corp."

"Do you need company?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

"You want to come with me?"

"Well, uh, maybe. It depends what time. I mean, I have to look after Aisling in the morning while Shannon's at work, and—"

He pressed a finger to my lips. "We'll go in the afternoon. Just tell me what time to pick you up."

Heat from his touch seared my skin, and I took a step back to regain my senses. "Two o'clock. I can do two o'clock."

"I'll be here. In the evening, I'd like to have another chat with Helene. See if she's calmed down yet."

"Okay," I whispered.

"See you tomorrow."

***

Skirt? Trousers? What did a girl wear for private investigating? I picked up one of my only two dresses, a black jersey number, and shoved it back into the closet. What was I thinking? I needed to wear trousers because Will would take me straight to work afterwards, and I'd probably have to stay in the car while he talked to Arthur's wife, anyway.

But I still put on a jumper a little tighter than I'd normally wear and made sure my hair was tidy. It needed a cut, really. Something else to add to the "when I can afford it" list.

Will handed me another Kinder Egg as I climbed into the passenger seat.

Another chink of light shone through my armour.

"What's the plan?" I asked, fingers peeling the foil off chocolate I was too nervous to eat.

Why was I so unsettled? I'd been shot at, attacked more times than I cared to remember, survived crossing the Mediterranean in an overloaded, sinking dinghy, and travelled across two continents without feeling this edgy. Probably because I'd been numb inside back then. I'd accepted I was going to die and been as surprised as anyone when I lived.

"I'll do most of the talking, but feel free to jump in if you have any questions."

Oh, so I was coming inside. "Want some chocolate?"

He kept both hands on the wheel, but half turned with his mouth open. I broke off a chunk and fed it to him, resisting the urge to shudder when my fingers brushed against his lips.

Get a grip, Rania.

By the time Will pulled up outside the nondescript bungalow, my heart had slowed enough that it no longer rattled my ribcage, I'd forced down half the chocolate, and I'd built a toy dragon.

"Ready?" Will asked.

No. "Yes."

He opened my door, and I got out and followed him along the path. Weeds grew through the cracks here and there. The rest of the garden had been paved over, and I recalled Arthur once telling me about his greenhouse and all the prizes he'd won in the local horticultural society's competitions. Probably he wouldn't be too happy about the lack of greenery.

Will rang the doorbell, and I stood by his side as a middle-aged woman answered.

"Virginia Brady?" he asked.

"You want next door, only she's Virginia Roxburgh now. I just rent the house from her."

"Next door?"

She pointed to the almost-identical house to the left, one which had a caravan parked in the front garden.

"Thanks for your help."

"She married the neighbour?" I murmured as we headed down one path and up the next.

"Looks like it. Bernard Roxburgh's the man who accused Arthur of denting his car."

"And if Roxburgh married Arthur's wife, could that have given him a reason for wanting Arthur out of the way?"

Will flashed me a smile. "Do you want my job?"

This time, an older lady answered the door, but before Will managed to get a word out, she tapped a finger on a laminated sign: No cold-callers.

"Whatever you're selling, we don't want any."

Will disarmed her with a grin, and I was glad to see it wasn't just me he had that effect on. "We're not selling anything. My name's Will Lawson, and I'm a private investigator. This is my partner, Rania."

Partner?

"Why are you here? Is it about the missing cats?"

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about missing cats."

"Two from this street and three from the next, all in the last two months. The ladies at bingo think there's a catnapper on the loose. But if it's not because of the cats, why are you here?"

"I was hoping to have a quick chat about your ex-husband."

"What? Arthur? But he's been dead for over ten years."

"I'm aware of that, but some new information—"

"I don't want to hear it. My husband killed himself, did you know that? Whatever problems he had, he didn't care enough to share them. No, he took the coward's way out and left me right in the lurch instead."

"As I was saying, some new information has come to light. It's possible Arthur's death wasn't a suicide."

She'd opened her mouth to speak again, but at Will's words, she closed it and turned a few shades paler.

"What do you mean? What information?"

"I'm afraid a lot of it's confidential at the moment, but I wanted to get an idea of Arthur's state of mind at the time. Whether he'd been having any problems at work, that sort of thing."

She opened the door a little wider. "I suppose you'd better come in."

As we took our shoes off at the front mat, a thin man with a sallow complexion came down the stairs.

"Who's this, Virginia? I didn't know we were expecting visitors."

"Detectives. About Arthur. They say he might not have committed suicide."

The man's expression turned grim. "Have you been upsetting my wife?"

"That wasn't our intention."

"Walking in here, twelve years after the man's death. Have you no shame? She went through enough hardship back when it happened."

"I can only imagine how difficult it must have been. It's a good thing you were around to help her."

"Are you insinuating something?"

"Not at all. I'm just saying that everyone needs a hand when they're down."

Virginia pressed her fingertips on her new husband's arm. "Calm yourself, Bernard." Then to Will, "I told the police at the time that Arthur had no reason to do what they said he did."

"You mentioned he'd been secretive?"

She sighed. "Let's talk in the lounge. Would you like tea?"

"We'd love a cup."

"Bernard, would you be a dear?"

She led us into a living room decorated in shades of pink. A vase of freesias sat on the windowsill—did the former Mrs. Brady enjoy gardening too, or had Arthur and her new husband shared the same hobby?

"Please, take a seat."

She waved us over to the back of the room, where two grey leather sofas faced each other with a wooden coffee table in between. I took a seat next to Will on the smaller two-seater while Virginia perched on the one opposite right next to... Well, I didn't know, but from the cheesed-off expression on her pale face, I suspected I was going to find out.

"About time you got here," the spirit said. "Twelve years, I've been waiting. Twelve years since that good-for-nothing husband of mine smothered me so he could move his other woman into our house."

Oh, hell.

Virginia sighed again, and I got the impression it was a habit. She still hadn't got her colour back, and her hands twisted in her skirt as she spoke. "You were asking about Arthur being secretive?"

Will nodded, giving her room to speak.

"I think I know why, but I didn't find out until three months after he died. He'd booked us a cruise. One of those fancy all-inclusive ones around the Med for our tenth wedding anniversary. And then he took his life before that and left me on my own. He'd been depressed, and the police said people often do the unexpected."

"Was he on medication?"

"The doctor gave him pills. I forget which ones. Do you really think it could have been...what? An accident? Murder?"

"It's an angle we're looking into."

"Virginia," Mr. Roxburgh called from the kitchen. "I can't find the tea strainer."

"Excuse me a second," she said.

While she crossed the room to the serving hatch cut through to the kitchen, I scooched closer to Will and whispered in his ear.

"The first Mrs. Roxburgh is sitting next to the second Mrs. Roxburgh, and she's not happy."

It took a few seconds for Will to process that. "I thought you could only see the dead if they were murdered?"

"That's right."

Virginia came back before I got the chance to elaborate.

"Where were we?"

For once, Will was lost for words, but I'd had practice at this—pretending to ignore the dead while at the same time holding a conversation without looking like a lunatic.

"It's possible Arthur had some assistance falling over the balcony. Did he mention problems with any of his colleagues?"

"I don't understand why you're looking into this now?"

"There's been another death at Daylesford Hall."

Will squeezed my leg in a silent thank you. Ordinarily, that contact would have made me squirm, but when he took his hand away, I found myself wishing he'd left it there.

"We can't be sure of anything at the moment, Mrs. Roxburgh," Will said. "It's just a possibility. Only one step on from a rumour, but we have to follow up every angle."

Mr. Roxburgh walked in with the tea. The cups rattled as he slammed the tray down on the table between us, but Virginia smiled at him.

"Thank you, Bernard."

The other Mrs. Roxburgh glared. "He never used to make me tea," she said.

"The bottom dropped out of my world when Arthur died," Virginia said. "I still remember every detail of that day. I spent the afternoon in the garden, tidying up the rose bushes. Bernard drove me crazy with his lawnmower all afternoon."

"It was having engine problems, as I recall. Water in the fuel."

"I'd not been inside fifteen minutes when the police knocked on the door. I could hardly believe it when they said Arthur was dead. In fact, I didn't believe it. I thought it was a joke. I didn't know what to do, so I went around to Bernard's because he lost his Primrose not long before and I thought he might understand."

The first Mrs. Roxburgh—Primrose—glowered at him. "Understand? That jackass helped me on my way. Any normal husband would have called an ambulance when his wife had an asthma attack, but he held a pillow over my face instead."

"I was watching Antiques Roadshow when Virginia knocked on the door. I'd only just taken my shoes off," Bernard said.

Primrose tutted. "Lazy, as usual. That man never lifted a finger around the house. If he wasn't making a mess, he was sitting in front of the TV with his feet up."

"So you'd been in the garden together for the whole afternoon?" I asked.

"Yes," Virginia said. "Bernard helped me to sharpen my shears, even though he's never been big on horticulture."

"It was my wife who insisted we have the lawn," he said. "We've replaced it with decking now."

I refrained from rolling my eyes when Primrose started up again. "Decking! What sort of heathen puts decking in a garden? A tasteful patio is acceptable, but all that newfangled wood? I always told Bernard we'd put that in over my dead body, and now look—he's done exactly that. And why are you just sitting there, staring? You're one of those chosen ones, aren't you? You're supposed to be on my side."

I was beginning to see why Mr. Roxburgh might have wanted to hold a pillow over Primrose's face.

"Still," Will said. "You must miss your wife, especially if she died suddenly."

Bernard grimaced for a brief second, then quickly schooled his features into a more appropriate expression. "Of course, although she wasn't always the easiest woman to get along with."

Oh, how I longed to stick my fingers in my ears.

"Me, difficult to get along with?" Primrose snapped. "I wasn't the one who spent the entire weekend fly fishing instead of fixing up the house. Bernard left me with all the housework to do. He got home late almost every day, and I barely had enough time for my Women's Institute commitments. But now you're here, you can do your duty and show him who's boss."

No, I could take a deep breath and try not to lose my temper with a woman who made Helene look saintly.

"Virginia, going back to Arthur—did he mention any issues at work?" I asked.

"No, nothing. He didn't really talk about his job. It was all numbers, and truth be told, it bored me to tears."

"We really appreciate your time today."

"Will you keep me updated if anything else comes to light? I've spent so many years blaming Arthur, and if he was a victim too..."

"You'll be the first to know."

Thankfully, Will took the hint and got to his feet, pausing to shake Bernard's hand and smile at Virginia again.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Primrose demanded.

I ignored her.

"You can't just leave!"

Yes, I could.

And as we walked out the front door, Will kept his hand lightly on the small of my back. A gesture of...thanks? Camaraderie? Possession?

Whatever it was, it made me shiver, but at the same time, I liked it.

"I'm dying to know what went on in there," he said as he opened the car door. "Excuse the pun."

"The next Kinder Egg you buy me had better come with earplugs."