Page 94 of Glasshouses

“To escape my mother and three of my nieces. One of the cousins is getting married at the weekend and the house is now full of make-up, dresses and heels that should be reclassified as weapons.” He looked utterly fed up.

“Stilettoes?”

“They’re spread down the hallway, and I’ve nearly broken my neck on them twice.” The coffee machine started again.

“Poor baby.” I nursed my mug. “You can trip over bags of plaster instead.”

“They’re less easy to miss.” He finished making his coffee and sat down opposite me, moving my feet off the chair. “Something’s bothering you.”

“There’s a fire investigative technician called Ste Taylor, who has a very similar name to Stefan Taylor, Andrew Smith’s son.” I’d fallen asleep with fleeting thoughts about Ste, the edges of a jigsaw clicking together, the picture still blurry. “He’d have access to the rope, and he knows plenty about fires. He said he’s just moved to Manchester.”

“Do you want me to have a look for you?”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble, but basically yes. Can your hacking skills do that?”

He snorted a laugh. “They can.”

“Where have you been the last couple of days?”

“Induction for the new job.”

“What new job?” My words were batted back by the coffee mug.

“Nice try. I’ll have a look for you later.”

“I could be putting two and two together and making three cabbages.”

“Why cabbages?”

“Why not?”

He shook his head, hair still half-wild. “You could’ve picked a different veg.”

“I could’ve picked a different job,” I grumbled, not in a good mood at all this morning, despite the decent night’s sleep. “The sofa’s comfier than my bed.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t tried your bed.”

I swallowed my coffee the wrong way and started to choke.

“Why don’t you buy a new one and put that in one of the many spare bedrooms,” he continued. “Or just move your sofa up there.”

“Both options require my executive to function. It’s got low battery so I’m reserving its usage for work.” I tried to smooth down my hair. “I’m worried about what’s happened to Lily.”

“Like what?”

“Worst-case scenario; she’s dead. Second worst-case scenario; she’s responsible.” I finished my coffee and got up to get a yoghurt from the fridge. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. How do you think she’s connected to Stefan Taylor? Now, I mean.” He stretched back against the chair, all long limbs and hard muscle, not that I was noticing. Just observing.

“Did she stay in Manchester so he could find her? Did she and Stefan set the fire at Roselea together, the fire that killed everyone in her family bar her mother? No one’s convinced that she set the fire, but no one’s convinced she didn’t. I think there was more than her involved, and Andrew Smith used The Holding’s money to protect him.” For the first time since the case had begun, I was almost convinced.

“And you think Ste Taylor could be your man?”

“Maybe. He’s odd. Always cheery - ”

“Some people can be cheery, I mean, I know that’s a foreign idea to you - ”

“Hilarious. No, it isn’t a genuine cheeriness.” I remembered his expression changing yesterday evening. “He’s playing a part.” I put the spoon I’d used for the yoghurt in the sink. “I’m going to get ready to go for a run.”