When I took them coffee ten minutes later, the tension between them appeared to have diffused; they were happily hunched over the computer together, fiddling with the bass line.

‘I dunno,’ I said, ‘I thought when you got this successful, I’d stop being a studio widow.’

Only Liam looked up. ‘You know us, Rosie. Boys and their toys.’ He was joking with me, but he still seemed remarkably uneasy.

‘By the way, James—’

He didn’t look at me as I passed him the sugar. ‘Yeah?’

‘Your phone. It was dropped off by Kattan’s driver, wasn’t it?’

‘Oh.’ Now he did look up. ‘Yeah.’

‘So you were up there?’ I was truly puzzled.

‘Yeah. Sorry. It totally slipped my mind. I went to talk to Kattan about the club.’

‘And?’

I saw Liam shoot James a look.

‘And there’s a chance he might invest. You knew that. A chance. Quite slim, though. He’s got some funny ideas, that guy.’

‘Oh?’ I was curious. ‘Like what?’

‘Rosie,’ James widened his eyes at me, ‘please. We’ve got to get on. Talk about it later, yeah?’

The bass kicked in again, and I shut the door firmly behind me before I was deafened. But as I drove to collect Alicia, I couldn’t free my mind of the feeling they’d been arguing about something serious. I hoped Liam hadn’t messed up financially again; it had happened in the past when the label nearly went bust. At least it might explain James’s recent stress. But I still didn’t know why he’d lied about being up at the manor. A worm of discomfort curled into my gut.

At 5 a.m. the phone woke me.

‘Yes?’ I mumbled into the receiver, suddenly terrified. Despite all my years as a reporter, early morning and late night calls always boded badly for me. Since the implosion of Society X it only made me think of fatal news; more recently, of my father’s heart attack.

‘Morning, Rose.’

‘Who’s that?’ My brain slowly cranked into life.

‘It’s Louise at the PA. Sorry to wake you,’ she sounded impatient, ‘but you did say to call you if I got any information.’

‘Yes, of course.’ I fumbled for my watch to check the time. ‘What is it?’

‘Just came through. There’s been a death up at that house you were so interested in.’

‘Albion Manor?’ I sat up in bed.

‘You got it. Sounds like something out of Agatha Christie, doesn’t it? Body in the library and all that kind of thing.’

‘Fuck.’ Blearily I tried to compute what she was saying. I heard her keyboard rattle as apprehension crept up my spine. ‘Who …’ I cleared my throat, ‘who’s dead?’

‘Young male. No name.’ There was the rattle of the computer again. ‘Early-to-mid thirties, no other details yet.’

‘Right …’ Fingers of fear clutched my neck. ‘God. Foul play, presumably?’