It turned out that all Liza’s strength wasn’t that much, especially not when her chosen weapon was tied to the wall by an electrical cord that came very rapidly to the end of its extension.

Hanna followed quickly after him, brandishing a small fire extinguisher. “All right, you murdering piece of shit, what have you done with my wi—oh.”

Liza stared, sighed with palpable relief, and then waved. “Hi.”

“Thank fuck you’re not dead.”

“Right back atcha.”

As Liza watched, Hanna’s demeanour shifted from thankful to furious. “What were you thinking coming in here alone? Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Explaining about Ruby and the mysterious finance numbers in front of Mr Burgh seemed like an extremely poor choice. And unfortunately, it seemed a slightly poorer choice than just letting her wife think she’d been an inconsiderate jerk. “Sorry. I … got curious?”

Hanna dropped hard onto the bed in an I-give-up sort of way. “You got curious? You got fucking curious? You are un-be-fucking—”

“I think I might go,” said Mr Burgh. “I’m glad everything is resolved safely, and”—he glanced nervously between the couple, rubbing his shoulder somewhat ruefully—”and I hope you both have a good evening.”

Once he’d scuttled out the door, head down and doing his best not to look back, Hanna finished her thought. “—lieveable. Just when I’d thought we—”

“ItwasRuby,” said Liza, probably faster than was helpful.

“It was what?”

“Ruby. She was here. She told me to come in, so I did, and—”

It turned out this explanation was less mollifying than Liza had hoped. “The woman we think is likely to be a murderer invited you to come and be alone in a room with her and you said yes?”

“Well, I was alone in a cupboard with her, and she didn’t kill me then, so …”

“Pro tip. When your wife is yelling at you, don’t remind her of that time you were locked in a cupboard with another woman.”

Probably a good call. “Sorry, sorry. I just mean—I thought it was pretty safe and she probably didn’t want to kill me, and if she did, I’d probably be dead already, and also she gave me these.” Liza spun her laptop around and showed Hanna the numbers.

“I don’t care what she—hey, are those what I think they are?”

“What do you think they are?”

“Offshore bank accounts.” Hanna sat down next to Liza and began to read closely through the lines of figures. “Cayman Islands, I think.”

“You’ve seen these before?”

Hanna nodded. “Not these specific numbers, but yeah, I spend all day moving rich people’s money around. I know a dodgy bank account when I see one.”