Lindsay folded up the paper with a smile on her face. She glanced at her watch. Sophie would be home any minute now, crises permitting. Her AIDS specialization had paid off handsomely, and she was now a senior consultant at the city’s maternity hospital. The offer of the job had come less than a week after Cordelia’s escape, and Lindsay had been more than glad to accept Sophie’s suggestion that they go to California together.

After some wrangling with the police, she’d been allowed to remove her belongings from Cordelia’s London house. It had been a sad and depressing experience, for the discovery of Cordelia’s crime had made it impossible for Lindsay to enjoy the good memories. The house had seemed oppressive and threatening, not the home where she had once been happy. Selling the Mercedes and donating the proceeds to an AIDS charity had felt like the last act in a long tragedy.

But California had banished the shadows from her life. And the job had been the icing on the cake. Lindsay padded through to the kitchen and opened a bottle of the local sparkling Chardonnay. Mary Nkobo’s Booker prize deserved a celebration. As she topped her glass up with orange juice, she heard the front door slam. Hastily, she poured another glass for Sophie, and greeted her as she strolled cheerfully in.

“Good day?” Lindsay inquired, kissing her lightly.

“Not bad. And you? Are we celebrating something?”

“In a way. The end of a story. Or at least, the end of a chapter. Come and see.” Lindsay took Sophie’s hand and led her out on to the sun deck. “Read that,” she said, pointing to the article.

Curious, Sophie picked up the paper and sat down with her glass of Buck’s Fizz. She read through to the end with a smile on her face. “I’m glad it won,” she said. “You’re right, it is the end of the chapter. Strangely enough, I have a surprise for you too.” She opened her bag and fished out a postcard which she handed to Lindsay.

Lindsay picked it up and glanced at the front, an artistic photograph of two cats on the doorstep of a Greek village house. She flipped it over and immediately recognized the handwriting. The card had been forwarded from Sophie’s flat in Glasgow to the hospital. The message was brief but curiously final.

“Dear Lindsay: Weather wonderful. Life very simple here. It’s good to get away from it all. A wonderful place to set a thriller, don’t you think? Hope everything is fine with you and Sophie.” There was no signature, but it needed none. She looked up at Sophie’s concerned face and managed a wan smile.

Relieved that the card hadn’t upset Lindsay, Sophie smiled back and said, “I know you haven’t wanted to talk about it, but how are you feeling now?”