“Crap!” burst out Flynn senior, making Kerry start. “You both have a lot to talk about.” He hesitated. “I know what it’s like to be so stubborn that you make a life for yourself made up of unhappiness and regret.” He jerked his head towards the fire door. “Now, I want both of you ladies to go and explain to my pig-headed grandson about the Chandler issue, once we’ve spoken to the police.” He gave Seth Gordon, trussed up on the floor, an aggressive prod with his foot. ““The sooner we have this waste of space dealt with, the better.”

A dark sinking feeling took over. “I’m doing all I can to try and stop my boss revealing who Chandler is,” I assured him. “I don’t know how successful I will be, Mr Talbot, as it’s a huge story with a great deal of public interest and our editor is chomping at the bit.”

“I’ve been giving that a great deal of thought,” interrupted Flynn senior, his mobile connecting to the police. “We’ll discuss that soon.”

His words were cryptic, his eyes unreadable. At the other end of the line, I heard a voice announcing he was through to the police. He clamped his hand over the phone. “I think I might have come up with a suggestion that will solve all our problems.”

Flynn senior then explained to the police what had happened and that an attempted murder had taken place.

Much to my relief, a couple of police officers arrived very soon afterwards and took details from the three of us, before handcuffing and preparing to escort a foul-mouthed, dishevelled Seth Gordon away to their vehicle. Flynn senior insisted to the two officers that he would accompany them to the station.

Kerry gave me another reassuring hug as we prepared to leave the stairwell and the empty reception area behind.

Flynn senior noticed we were lingering. “What the hell are you both still standing there for? Chop, chop!”

When I hesitated, Flynn senior grunted with exasperation. “He’ll be at his photography studio across town. I checked where he was before I met up with young Kerry here.”

Then he asked for my mobile and jabbed his number into my contacts. “I want to know what happens between the two of you.”

He handed my phone back to me and folded his arms. “So, what are you waiting for?!”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Kerry insisted she drive us to Flynn’s photography studio. “You’ve just had a horrible, traumatic experience and need to recover. You certainly shouldn’t be driving.”

The prospect of seeing Flynn wasn’t doing much for my blood pressure either, but I nodded.

The journey took us across town, down a couple of cobbled streets and into an old Edwardian part of the city, surrounded by stately granite buildings and the waft of money.