Cora Clayburn always took a half-day on Wednesdays. She was back home at her terraced house in Saltbridge by two in the afternoon. When she got there, the central heating had already come on, thankfully. It was the first day of November, so no one would expect it to be mild, but even though the sun was out, there was a raw, icy edge to the breeze.

She showered, dressed in a house-robe and slippers, wrapped her long silver-blonde hair in a towel and went down to the kitchen, where she sorted out a ham salad for lunch, at the same time switching on Radio Two – for which reason she didn’t at first hear it when someone knocked at the front door. The second knock was louder. Assuming it would be the postman or maybe a parcel delivery, Cora turned the radio down, went along the hall to the front door, and opened it.

It was a full-on shock to see Frank McCracken standing there. Smartly groomed as ever. Silver-grey hair short and neat. Lean, aquiline features wolfishly handsome despite their age-old scars. Wearing a thick gabardine coat over his sharp suit and tie.

Cora sucked in a tight breath, checking up and down the street to ensure that he hadn’t parked his black Bentley Continental saloon anywhere close by. In this neighbourhood, a motor like that would have curtains twitching in every house. There was no sign of it.

‘We agreed that you were going to stay away!’ she hissed.

‘Yeah, well I had to break that agreement,’ he replied. ‘And before you ask me why, do you really want this conversation on your doorstep?’

Stiff-backed with indignation, still glancing up and down the street to ensure there was no one hanging around who might wonder why this well-appointed stranger was calling on her mid-afternoon, Cora stepped aside to admit him, slamming the door closed when he was inside.

In the living room, he unbuttoned his coat and peeled it off as if he’d popped in for a daily cuppa. ‘Nice and warm,’ he commented.

‘Enough niceties, Frank,’ she snapped. ‘You don’t do them very well.’

‘Okay …’ he draped his coat over the back of an armchair, ‘let’s cut to the chase. The situation’s simple, Cora. I have stayed away … for as long as I was able to. But now something’s gone wrong, and it’s in all our interests that it gets fixed.’

‘All our interests, Frank … really?’ She didn’t find it difficult sounding sceptical.

‘Lucy’s joined CID, I understand?’

‘Don’t you dare start prodding me for information, Frank McCracken.’ She jabbed a finger at him. ‘It was bad enough what happened last time. My life won’t be worth living if I gossip with you about her job again.’