As I squeezed through it, I could see the rough ground at the end of my lane. If I could reach the house, find someone, anyone, before Paul caught up with me, I would be safe. I glimpsed a sudden flash of acid yellow. Someone was moving around at the end of the lane. I stumbled onward. I could see clearly then. Two council workmen in high-visibility jackets and hard hats were finally clearing away the fly-tipping from the space where I parked the van, lobbing an abandoned mattress into the back of a flatbed truck. I waved to attract their attention. I managed a hoarse yell. ‘Hey!’ I waved both arms.

One of them saw me and nudged his mate. As I limped towards them, too breathless for another shout, arms waving, they grinned at one another, then waved back.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

‘So, Monday, then?’ Morris asked, as the waiter poured tea into dainty china cups from an ornate silver pot. A plate of finger sandwiches lay on the immaculate white tablecloth. Taylor’s serves a serious afternoon tea.

‘Old Nick’s finally opens its doors,’ I confirmed. ‘It’s official.’

‘Official, is it?’ Ricky frowned at Morris. ‘I don’t remember receiving an invitation to cut the ribbon, do you?’

‘We’ll be there, Juno,’ Morris promised, beaming. ‘We’ll bring champagne.’

‘That’ll be lovely! Adam and Kate are supplying trays of canapés,’ I told him. ‘First fifty customers get free nosh.’

‘Fifty!’ Ricky scoffed. ‘Blimey! You’re optimistic.’

‘I don’t know if anyone’s going to buy anything, but I expect there will be a few people coming to have a look at the shop. I caught one of the antiques dealers from the bazaar peering in the window yesterday, trying to see inside.’ I knew Tom and Vicky Smithson were coming along for the grand opening. I’d even invited Inspector Ford. He’d given me a severe reprimand after Paul’s arrest, for putting myself in danger instead of taking the netsuke straight to him, but I reckoned by now he’d forgiven me. After all, I had caught Nick’s murderer.

As for Paul, he had not pursued me. When the police cars arrived at the barn, he was waiting there for them. He confessed to everything, which should count in his favour.

‘All of Ashburton’s gagging to see what you’ve done with the place,’ Ricky admitted, ‘after the murder and all.’

Morris tutted. ‘There’s no need to bring that up,’ he told him primly. He held out a plate of finger sandwiches. ‘I must say, the new shopfront looks splendid.’