Sarah huffed. ‘How ridiculous. And all this fuss over a tiny two-bedroomed flat. Listen, one of my girlfriends is really keen to meet you. Apparently, she’s spent a lot of time studying your website photo and she messaged me last night and I thought, Wow! My brother would . . .’

‘Sarah, not this again,’ Priest sighed.

‘No, really . . .’

‘Wait.’ Priest found himself stood up all of a sudden. ‘Wait – what did you say?’

‘I said I’ve got this friend . . .’

‘No, before then – about the flat.’

‘I said all this fuss over a tiny two-bedroomed flat,’ Sarah repeated, puzzled.

‘Oh, Jesus.’ Priest bolted across the patio towards the stairwell. ‘Thanks, Sarah. Got to go. Love you.’

*

Gary had owned the electronics shop on Bristol Road for eight years and in that time he had barely turned a profit. He fixed PCs and laptops and, by all accounts, he was pretty good at it, but he didn’t make any money. Fortunately, having won the best part of four million pounds on the National Lottery in 2008, he didn’t need to. Gary fixed computers because Gary enjoyed fixing computers.

Gary’s good fortune meant that his shop only opened between ten and three and he picked and chose who he worked for – customer service was relatively unimportant and Gary could decide whether he was helpful and welcoming to new customers or downright rude and hostile.

Right now, faced with an attractive blonde who had identified herself as a freelance reporter, Gary was on the fence. On the one hand, he hated reporters and didn’t like the line of questioning about the guy who lived in the flat above him – the one owned by that awful lawyer – but on the other hand, with her curvy body and flirtatious smile, she was joyous to behold.

‘You don’t happen to have a key, do you?’ asked the reporter, flashing him another gorgeous grin.

‘Told you, miss. It’s not my flat,’ Gary replied.

‘When was the last time you saw the occupant?’

‘Like I told the police when they asked the same thing, keeps himself to himself. I don’t even know his name. But I thought he might be in some kind of trouble.’

‘How so?’

‘There was a lot of scurrying about. You know, sometimes you can just tell these things.’

The reporter looked thoughtfully at the doorway that led to the flat. ‘How does he get in when the shop’s closed?’

‘There’s another door round the back. I don’t know when he comes and goes.’

‘Thank you,’ she said brightly. ‘You’ve been most helpful.’ Gary grunted something in reply and turned back to the corrupt hard drive spread across the counter. ‘You don’t mind if I take a quick look through there, do you?’

He opened his mouth to reply but he was rudely interrupted.

‘Tell you what, how about I open up for us?’