‘It’s about being dead,’ Archie said. ‘In your mind. Before I stabilised, it wasn’t like I wanted to climb into coffins and act like a corpse, I was really dead, had no connection to the living, couldn’t understand how to communicate with them.’

‘But none of us communicate with each other,’ Dorothy said. ‘Not really.’

Archie shook his head. ‘I used to hang around in cemeteries because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I thought I had 205a connection to the dead, something I didn’t have with the living.’

Dorothy stroked Schrödinger, who purred in response.

‘But that brought you to us,’ Dorothy said.

Archie sipped his drink and looked out of the window. ‘I can’t ever thank you enough, Dorothy. I can’t repay you for your kindness when I needed it most.’

Dorothy swallowed more whisky, felt it burn her throat. She put a hand to the paperwork spread over the table. ‘What about this?’

He looked at the table. ‘What about it?’

Dorothy stared at him. ‘I need to find out what happened to Simon Lawrence.’

Archie held his whisky glass like a grenade. ‘OK.’

‘You know something.’

He stared at his lap. ‘I really don’t.’

‘Look me in the eye and say that, Archie.’

He did as he was told. ‘I don’t.’

Dorothy pressed her lips together. ‘I did a DNA test.’

Archie looked confused. ‘On who?’

‘To see if Jim was the father of Rebecca Lawrence’s daughter. Or maybe her grandfather.’

‘Jesus,’ Archie said. ‘And?’

Dorothy shook her head.

Archie held his hands out. ‘Well, then.’

Dorothy nodded at the messy table again. ‘I need you to help me.’

‘How?’

‘I’m checking back through the business around the time Simon disappeared.’

Archie shifted in his seat. ‘Why?’

‘Why do you think?’

Archie sipped his whisky and touched his ear. ‘I have no idea.’

Dorothy leaned forwards, elbows mussing up some of the 206papers. Schrödinger flicked his ears upwards, as if something interesting might happen. Outside, young women were laughing in the park.

‘Yes, you do,’ Dorothy said. ‘You’re a smart guy, don’t play dumb.’

Archie looked out of the window, as if he wanted to be with those laughing voices. There was a smell of barbecue and Dorothy pictured flipping burgers with Jim. Then she pictured him shrivelling to dust on the funeral pyre.

Archie spoke. ‘You think Simon Lawrence didn’t just walk away from his life.’

‘Correct.’

‘Maybe Jim had something to do with it.’

‘More than that.’ Dorothy felt like a big cat stalking her prey through the long grass, eyes never wavering.

‘You think Jim might’ve killed Simon.’

Dorothy motioned to the paperwork in front of her. ‘And?’

‘And got rid of the body through the business somehow.’