Sophie smiled. Lindsay’s irrepressible determination was one of the things she loved about her partner, but there were times when it slid inexorably into stubbornness. This looked like being one of them. Sophie walked across to the chest of drawers and picked up the laptop. Turning back, she noticed a look of triumph on Lindsay’s face. “I meant what I said,” Sophie told her, walking out of the room with the laptop under her arm. Ignoring the howl of frustrated fury behind her, she carried on downstairs and put it in one of the kitchen cupboards before pouring another cup out of the pot.

“I don’t believe you just did that,” Lindsay said, outraged, the moment Sophie walked back into the room. “I do not believe you just did that.”

“One day is not going to make a blind bit of difference. If the cops were going to charge Meredith, they’d have done it by now,” Sophie said mildly, holding out the fresh coffee. “Believe me, you’ll feel so much better for it tomorrow, the day won’t have been wasted.”

“Huh,” Lindsay snorted, grudgingly taking the mug. “So what am I supposed to do? Play I-Spy with you?”

“Relax. Read a book. Have a bath. Watch some TV.”

“Boring.” Sulky as a teenager, Lindsay glowered at Sophie.

“Okay. So tell me about the investigation, all the things you didn’t go into over the phone. Two heads are supposed to be better than one.”

“I thought I was supposed to be having a day off?” Lindsay grumbled. Sophie just stared her down. Eventually, Lindsay relented. “All right, sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”

She’d got as far as Lauren’s tale of being bribed by Penny to get into Monarch’s offices when the phone rang. Sophie rolled off the bed and raced out of the room, calling, “It’s probably Helen. She said she’d check in to see how you were.”

At first, Lindsay could hear only a distant mumble from Sophie, then her voice grew clearer as she mounted the stairs, still talking into the cordless phone. “. . . quite a battering, so she’s not in a fit state to do much . . . Yes, I appreciate that, and I know she’ll want to know what’s happened . . .” Sophie walked into the bedroom and held the phone out. “It’s Meredith’s solicitor. The police have taken her in for further questioning.”

Lindsay grabbed the phone. “Hello? Ms. Cusack?”

“Ms. Gordon. I’m sorry to hear about your injuries. No permanent damage, I trust?” Geri Cusack asked, her creamy voice as rich as a pint of Guinness on a winter night.

“I suspect I’ll have to forget the modelling career,” Lindsay said drily. “But never mind me. What’s this about Meredith?”