'Why? Just because he's being interviewed by the police? That doesn't mean he has anything to do with this body, or the murder of Tony West.'

'But his career'll be down the tubes, won't it?' Adam sighed again.

Libby pulled the car over onto the bit of green opposite her cottage. 'I don't know, and neither do you. Just wait until you hear from him.'

'Or you do,' said Adam, getting out and going to open the boot. 'I bet he calls you.'

The answerphone light was winking when they struggled through the narrow door of number 17.

'Go on,' said Adam, nodding towards it. 'I bet it's him.'

And he was right.

'Could you give me a call, Libby? Sorry to bother you. And tell Ad I'm sorry.'

Adam pulled down the corners of his mouth. 'Hmm,' he said, before lugging one of the rucksacks upstairs.

Libby went and put the kettle on and dug around for biscuits. Somewhere she had some of the homemade ginger ones Belinda had taught her to make, containing lethal amounts of golden syrup. When Adam came back down he immediately took two from the plate, his good temper restored.

'Have you phoned him yet?' he asked.

'No, I thought I'd wait until you were here,' said Libby. 'Do you want to take the tea into the garden? It's a lovely day.'

When they were settled at the slightly unstable table under the cherry tree, Libby keyed in Lewis's number. He answered almost instantly.

'Libby, I'm sorry about this,' he said, his voice sounding strained.

'Where are you?'

'At home. They let me go.' He gave a short laugh. 'I suppose you heard?'

'About Tony West? Yes.'

'Tony? I didn't mean ' he paused. 'I meant about me being questioned by the police.'

'I heard about that, too, Lewis, but it didn't take much detective ability to put two and two together when Mr West's death was announced on the radio yesterday.'

'Yeah. Well, that's why they wanted me, see. They know all about it. More'n I do, really. How's Ad?'

'He's fine.' Libby pointed to the phone and raised her eyebrows at Adam. He shook his head. 'It's a pity they've had to stop work on the garden, that's all.'

'They've what?' Lewis's voice rose sharply. 'Why?'

'Well,' said Libby, choosing her words carefully, 'they couldn't work in the wood, and there was no guarantee that any further work would be called for, or ...'

'Paid for?' Lewis was a shrewd East End boy. 'I know, I know. Well, you tell 'em, there'll be a cheque in the post tonight or, if Mog gives me his bank details, I'll transfer the money straight away. And yes, I do want them to carry on. I want that parterre garden finished this summer, and I know it'll take time.'

'But what about the house? Is it all kosher?'

'It turns out, yes. Me owning it, anyway. Look, I'll tell you all about it. Can I buy you a drink or summat?'

Libby flashed another glance at Adam. 'Come over here for supper,' she said. 'Ad will be here. Anything you don't eat?'

'Come on, Ad, he's going to keep you on,' she said after switching off, watching Adam's mutinous face. 'And pay you up to date.'

Adam's face cleared. 'What about the police?'

'I doubt if you'll be able to go back into the wood yet, but he wants you to finish the parterre.' She smiled. 'It turns out the house is legally his after all. At least, I think that's what he meant. And could you ask Mog to give him a ring because he'd like to pay the money straight into the account.'

A little later, leaving Adam to sort out the guest room and pack things away in the ancient shed, where he grumbled about damp and mould, she went into the village to see Bob the butcher, and then to Ahmed and Ali's eight-til-late. Standing on the pavement between the two shops, she frowned. Should she ask Ben? Check whether he intended to come tonight? Conscious of a slight rolling in her stomach and an accelerated heart rate, she pulled out her mobile and pressed speed dial. It went straight to voicemail and she swore under her breath.

As she plodded back up Allhallow's Lane, her mobile rang.

'Hi, Lib. You called?'

'Did you not listen to the message?'

'No I just saw one missed call and it was you. What's up?'

Libby explained, slowing to a halt under the lilac tree. The scent was calming.

'Right,' said Ben. 'So basically, this Lewis wants to talk to you about the murder and the house? And Adam's moved in?'

Libby's heart sank. 'Only temporarily,' she said. 'Just until things are sorted out.'

'Well, you won't want me there this evening, that's for sure,' he said. 'Mum'll be happy to see a bit more of me. I'll call you tomorrow.'

'OK. Ben '

'Speak to you then. Bye, love.'

Libby was left holding a dead mobile to her ear and feeling as though she might burst into tears. Again.

Lewis had said he would arrive around seven, and by 6.30 Libby had all the food ready and waiting and she and Adam were decently clothed and watching the local news together. There was a brief mention of the Creekmarsh case, but it had obviously been relegated to the 'other news'. Adam reached for the remote and switched off.

'So tell me what's up with Ben,' he said. 'Why isn't he coming tonight?'

Libby sighed and explained to the best of her ability, waiting for the inevitable 'I told you so'. It didn't come.

'He's a prat, Ma,' said Adam, getting up to give her a hug. 'Nice bloke and all that, but a prat.'

'I thought you were on his side?'

'In a way, but he's using emotional blackmail now, and that's wrong.'

Libby thought about it. 'I suppose he is,' she said. 'How horrible. I'd never have thought it of him.'

'I don't suppose he sees it like that,' said Adam, quite the wise young judge. 'He just doesn't want to lay up any more grief for himself if you're not going to commit to a life together. Sensible, in a way.' He turned away and poured drinks for them both.

Libby looked at him in horror. 'Now you've completely confused me,' she said. 'He's a blackmailing prat, but a sensible one?'

He handed her a gla.s.s with a cheerful smile. 'Yup. Cheers!'

The knocker rapped loudly.

'That's Lewis,' said Adam. 'I'll get it.'

This evening Lewis...o...b..urne-Walker was far from the ebullient young presenter of television's most popular home design programme. His spiky blonde hair drooped, and his cherubic face had a distinct lack of the angelic about it.

'Sit down,' said Adam, indicating the chair. 'Drink?'

'Got any water?'

'Plenty in the tap,' said Adam.

Lewis grimaced. 'Yeah. Sorry. Prat, aren't I?'

Libby and Adam exchanged amused glances.

''Course not.' Adam made a face. 'Tap water juice?' He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at his mother.

'Apple juice,' said Libby, 'or tonic water?'

'Tonic water'd be nice,' said Lewis, brightening.

When they were seated, Lewis leant back in the armchair and closed his eyes. Libby and Adam exchanged another significant look.

'Come on, then, Lewis, tell us all about it,' said Adam. 'What's been going on?'

Chapter Nine.

LEWIS OPENED HIS EYES and looked nervously from Adam to Libby.

'They found Tony yesterday morning.' He took a sip of his tonic water. 'In his bedroom.'

'Yes, it said that on television,' said Libby.

'And my prints were all over it.'

Libby and Adam looked at one another.

'How did they have your prints?'

'They asked for them yesterday.'

'Tell us from the beginning, Lewis. What happened when you went to talk to the police yesterday morning?' said Libby.

He sighed. 'They asked who I bought the house from, and in the end, of course, I had to tell 'em, didn't I? I said Tony. Because I don't actually know who owned it. So this other copper who was with Big Bertha leant over, like, and whispered in her ear. Then she went out of the room.'

'And?' prompted Adam.

'Then she came back and asked me how well I'd known Tony.' Lewis reddened. 'So I said he was a mate, like. Then they asked me if they could take fingerprints. I couldn't say no, could I?'

'And after that?'

'They went on questioning me. They gave me some lunch and then this bloke from London appeared and he and Big Bertha interviewed me together. Then, o' course, they tells me about Tony and my prints being there. And that Tony didn't hold t.i.tle or something to my house. It belonged to some famous bloke. Well, I knew that. Not that he was famous, though.'

'Who was the famous bloke?' asked Adam.

'Some actor. Can't remember, although they did tell me.'

'And they confirmed that he was missing, as Tony told you?' said Libby.

'Yeah. They think the skeleton is him.'

'So did you,' said Libby.

'Yeah, well, now they can do whatsit DNA on him. It.'

'At least you couldn't have killed him,' said Adam.

'They don't know that,' said Lewis gloomily. 'They reckon I must've known him and killed him and then tried to buy the house so no one would ever find him.'

'Ah,' said Adam.

'How did you first find the house?' asked Libby.

'Tony brought me down here once,' said Lewis. 'Took me into the house. Said it belonged to a friend who'd asked him to look after it. He wanted some details copied for the Hampstead place, he said, but I don't believe it. He wanted to get me down here. He knew I'd fall for the place, being a common c.o.c.kney bloke with whatsits of grandeur.'

'Delusions,' said Adam helpfully.

'That's them,' Lewis nodded.

'So how, if the house still belonged to this missing person, did Tony manage to sell it to you legally?'

'He had something to show he could do it. Some legal thing. Power something.'

'Power of attorney?' Libby's eyebrows shot up. 'Why?'

'How do I know?' said Lewis pettishly. 'He just did.'