Meredith thought back. ‘We were living in a squat for a few years when we started out. I guess there were people coming and going, but I honestly don’t think I ever upset anyone to that extent. Samantha was the only one who ended up having an issue with me, but she wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble, especially not once she was back in the States. She could be a right diva, but she would never kill anyone, or have wanted me to suffer like that, I’m absolutely sure. I can’t believe that any of it was anything to do with her.’

43

Pete

Even though the commission had to be shipped to the client by the end of the week and he still had several inches of mother-of-pearl blossom and branches to inlay and lacquer, Pete found himself locking up the workshop at two in the afternoon and wandering back to the barge. He was completely unable to concentrate after Meredith had rung him to tell him the results of the post-mortems, and that she’d come clean to the police about her and Ralph. He wondered how she was getting on at the station. They’d want to speak to him at some point too, he supposed. Would he be in trouble as well? He found that he didn’t really care, not as long as he and Meredith were safe. The police would protect them … wouldn’t they?

He stopped at the shop to buy a six-pack of beers from the local microbrewery, and the bottles chattered glassily in their cardboard compartments, banging against his leg as he walked home through the village, taking the shortcut through the back lanes to the marina. There had been heavy rainfall the night before and the lanes smelled of summer, of blooming roses and turned earth, dandelion and fresh spears of grass, a scent that usually made the sap of his spirits rise with joy – but today he took no pleasure from it. This feeling of being constantly close to tears was a new and unfamiliar one. He reached the steps and looked down at Andrea’s boat, still cordoned off with police tape. The sight made him want to howl.

He descended the steps and climbed heavily aboard Barton Bee, which rocked to accommodate his weight. The river was swollen and angry after the rain, streaming under him, its watery scowl personifying his mood.

He put the beers down on the deck to fiddle with the new and very stiff padlock and hasp he’d attached to the door a few days ago. The previous rusty little hasp had been half hanging off and any intruder wishing to come aboard could have dispensed with it in one sharp twist. Since the post-mortem results, he didn’t want to be next. There were two shiny new bolts affixed to the inside, too.