‘Are you – or indeed, old Mr Young – aware that I discovered Mr Nickolai’s body?’ From the horrified silence at the end of the line I gathered he was not. ‘How about sparing me some suffering?’ I suggested.

‘Miss Browne …’ When he found his voice it sounded abject. ‘I am profoundly sorry. Naturally, I will find someone else to do the job. I can’t apologise enough.’

‘Wait a second.’ I stopped him before he could put the phone down. Outraged as I felt, I didn’t intend to pass up the chance to get into Nick’s place. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘I really wouldn’t feel comfortable …’ Mr Young began.

‘No, it’s all right,’ I assured him, in as calm a voice as I could muster. ‘Really, it’s OK.’

‘Well, I’m not sure …’ he began doubtfully.

‘I knew Mr Nickolai and I don’t like the thought of a stranger doing the job.’ It was true, I didn’t like the idea. ‘It seems like an intrusion on his privacy.’

It took another five minutes to persuade him that I meant what I said, but eventually Mr Young overcame his reservations. If I was sure I was up to the job, then he would be so grateful. I agreed to meet him at Nick’s place next morning. At ten o’clock.

Paul phoned that evening. He sounded upbeat. There was a greater quantity of work for a furniture restorer around Nottingham, it seemed. And he was looking into buying a plot of land in a village not far from there; planning restrictions were easier. And if they did decide to build their own house, Carrie and the children could continue to stay with her family until it was ready. Meantime, he asked, how was I?

I told him how I’d found Bert Evans amongst the fishes. ‘Tom Smithson told me he liked to dabble in murky waters,’ I joked grimly. Paul listened in silence whilst I went on to describe the ransacked house.

‘God, Juno! What the hell possessed you to go there?’ he cried, loud enough to make me move the receiver away from my ear. ‘What if you’d arrived earlier, when his killers were still there?’

That thought had already occurred. I could only be grateful to Maisie’s washing machine for delaying me. ‘The neighbour reported seeing a dark-blue BMW parked in the road outside,’ I told him.

He gave a low whistle. ‘You think it was Vlad and Igor?’

‘Well, I know there’s more than one dark-blue BMW in the world but—’

‘Juno,’ he interrupted me, ‘that’s even more reason to stay away. I know you’re upset about Nick, but you must leave things to the police. You’re not some kind of amateur sleuth,’ he reprimanded me, ‘and that pair are dangerous.’