They’d celebrated that night, a double celebration since Helen had also called to announce that Guy and Stella would be facing charges of fraud and false accounting. “I owe you,” she’d said. “You gave me my professional life back.”

“You mean that?” Lindsay said.

“Of course I mean it. Why? What do you want?” Instant nervousness at the other end of the phone.

Lindsay let her stew for a few moments, then said, “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head . . .” Helen had exploded with laughter. It was a sound that cheered Lindsay even more than putting Penny’s murderer behind bars. She wondered if she’d ever hear Meredith laugh like that again.

Meredith had left for San Francisco a few days before, her life in pieces. If it had been hard to contemplate life without Penny as a lover, it was impossible to imagine it without her very existence. Losing her job had been the final blow, a knockback whose impact had only really hit in the days since King’s arrest, when the imperative of finding Penny’s killer had been answered. The night before she’d left, she’d told Lindsay she wasn’t going to make any decisions about her life for at least six months, displaying a strength and good sense that Lindsay envied.

The cabin steward’s inquiry about drinks roused Lindsay from her preoccupation. “To hell with sensible,” she said. “I’ll have a Scotch.”

When she’d taken her first sip, Sophie said gingerly, “There’s something we need to talk about.”

Lindsay turned her head and stared, a worm of worried fear stirring in her gut. Had she finally pushed Sophie too far? Was this the kind of trouble that altered lives beyond recognition? “No more murders? That’s not a problem, I promise.”

Recognising her apprehension, Sophie reached out and squeezed her hand. “That would be nice, but that’s not it. After we came back to London, while you were giving the cops the statement about your attack, I had coffee with somebody I used to work with in Glasgow. She’s doing similar work to what I’ve been doing in San Francisco, and their consultant is leaving in the New Year to go to Australia. She’s been asked to sound me out to see if I’d consider applying. What do you think?”

Lindsay looked aghast. “British winters?”

“Proper curries.”

“No air conditioning?”

“Decent TV.”

“No sea?”

“Great theater.”

Lindsay frowned. There had to be something that would clinch the argument against leaving California. Then her face cleared and she smiled triumphantly. “Quarantine,” she said firmly. “Six months behind bars. You couldn’t do that to Mutton.”

It was Sophie’s turn to look horrified. Then she nodded slowly, conceding defeat. “I am reminded,” she said, “of the joke about Jesus and the woman taken in adultery.”

“The joke about . . .?”