Page 54 of Glasshouses

“I’m not jaded.”

“I disagree. You suspect the worst of everyone.”

“In the hope I’ll be proved wrong, but I rarely am. Seriously, though. It’s seventeen years since this place was on fire. What are you going to find?” He stared at me. “Wrigley is convinced it’s the girl who started this.”

“I know. I’m not sure he’s wrong, but I’m not sure he’s right either.” I recounted my conversation with Doctor McKay. “There’s absolutely no evidence to tie Lily to the fire at Micky Mulligan’s. Every link we have is tenuous.” We walked out of the house into the gardens at the back, the glasshouses reflecting the late afternoon sun.

Vinny pushed his hands back in his pockets. “Someone wanted those people dead, Mia. To strangle someone and tie another person up so they couldn’t escape a fire – they definitely wanted them dead.”

I didn’t go out for drinks with my colleagues, partly because I was in a bad mood, but mainly because I wanted to be up early in the morning to do my usual parkrun. I liked the familiarity of Saturday mornings, breathing in fresh air and getting to see the hills and greenery of Derbyshire alongside other runners, who were all running off their different weeks and stresses.

Instead I headed back to my money pit of the house, wondering where to start on the master bathroom before I could even book a plumber, and wondering why I’d bought this building that needed so much doing to it, rather than something smaller that was ready to live in.

A van was pulled up on my drive; one I hadn’t been expecting. No trades people had been booked today, unless I’d really lost the plot and forgot.

I headed around the back, realising just how unsecure the property was. For all I knew, someone had let themselves in and was currently drowning in disappointment at how little there was to steal.

Adrenaline kicked in as I unlocked the back door, or realised I didn’t need to. Had I really not locked it? The sound of drum and bass filtered down the stairs, the sort of music I would listen to at the end of a half marathon, a pounding rhythm that did not suit my current mood.

This was no average burglar. Music on and definitely the thump of something being banged.

I had my suspicions.

They were confirmed ten seconds later when I entered my large, carpeted bathroom, finding what was now a familiar form with his head stuck under a bath.

It was not an unpleasant form.

“Why are you here?”

“Fuck!” Taz banged his head as he moved, startled. “Jesus.” He rubbed his hair, messing it up even further.

“If you hadn’t broken into my house, you wouldn’t have banged your head.” I folded my arms and wondered if I’d developed a stalker, one who appeared to be quite talented at DIY, so I wasn’t sure I’d be complaining.

“Your brother says you can shower over there.” He stood up, still keeping a hand on his head.

“You’ve spoken to Nate?”

“He let me in, so no laws broken.”

“How did you persuade him to do that?” My brother was not as lax with security as I was, in fact, he verged on paranoid, whereas I was founded on fighting fear and embracing adrenalin.

We’d had very different childhoods.

“I can be persuasive when I want.”

“Clearly.” I needed to find out more about that conversation. “Do you really have nothing better to do?”

“Genuinely, no, unless I start on my mother’s extension, and that’s not going to happen. I’ve got another three weeks and I start another job, so I thought I’d be helpful.” He pulled the top of the bath. “These things are as flimsy as fuck. How this has lasted forty years is beyond me.”

“The person who lived here before me probably hadn’t used it for thirty.” He died six months ago in a care home; his house having been left unoccupied for the previous seven years.

“Sounds about right. If you don’t want any help with it, I’ll leave you be.” He showed no sign of doing that, attacking the end bath panel so it was now only suitable for the skip. Not much different to before.

I was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. “I’m not turning down free labour.”

“Good. I didn’t take you to be an idiot. Can I keep the backdoor key for now?”

“Yep. Can you text me when you’re going to be here so I don’t accidentally take you to the floor.”