‘Through here,’ Francis said, leading Grant through to the sleek and modern kitchen that was pristine and so tidy it almost seemed unused. They headed on into a small utility room.

Grant kept alert as he walked through. For what, exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. One thing he did know, was that there was no sign at all of Julie Francis. Not even a photo of her.

‘You’re on your own tonight?’ Grant asked.

Francis gave him a look. ‘Yeah.’

‘Not seen Julie for a few days. She working away or something?’

‘No.’

Grant wasn’t sure what else to say to that. Francis bent down to a cupboard, opened the door and started rummaging around.

‘I’ve got these,’ Francis said, handing Grant a small box without looking up from the cupboard. ‘Or these. Or these.’

Grant looked at the three different types of bulb in his hands. The first one was most like the type he’d described to Francis at the door.

‘This one’s perfect,’ he said.

‘Just the one?’ Francis asked.

‘Two would be ideal.’

‘You got it.’

Francis gave him another one and took the unwanted boxes back, then shut the cupboard.

‘Anything else, neighbour?’ Francis said as he straightened up. ‘Some sticky tape? A couple of screws?’

‘I think I’m all good. Thanks for these.’

‘Any time. I’d offer you a drink, but I really was just in the middle of something. Maybe next time though, right?’

‘Yeah, next time.’

Grant followed Francis back out through the kitchen and into the hall. Other than the lounge, dining room and kitchen there was one other doorway there. That door was ajar a couple of inches and as Grant passed he tried his best to peek inside.

No, it was too dark. He couldn’t see anything. Not even if it was another room beyond that door, a simple cupboard, or the entrance to a basement. Francis’s house was a similar age and style to Grant’s so it would probably have one.

He continued to look around, and spotted something past the open door of the lounge. On a small bookcase that was only partly filled, the spine of one of the books caught his eye. He’d seen that damn book enough times to recognise it anywhere.

Grant stopped walking. ‘You’ve got my book.’

Francis stopped too and turned, his forehead creased, his eyes beady – clear signs his agitation was growing.

‘Yeah. The Essence of Evil. Not read it all yet. It’s not my usual thing, I must say.’

Grant took a step forwards, towards the lounge, intending to get a better look inside. Francis stepped past him and darted in. He went to the bookcase and picked the book out, then quickly leafed through it. As if satisfied with his inspection he tossed the book to Grant who caught it one-handed.