‘Hello, is… er… is Nathan Stone there, please?’

‘Who’s calling?’

‘Tell him it’s Sadie.’

‘Hang on. I’ll see if he’s here.’

Sadie hung on. She could hear music in the background, Marvin Gaye singing ‘I Heard it Through the Grapevine’. Kind of apt, she thought, hoping that Stone might have heard something too. The seconds ticked by and she began to wonder if he was ever going to come. She was also starting to wonder if this was a smart thing to do. The last time she’d seen him they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.

Eventually she heard a murmur of voices and then the phone was picked up. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mr Stone?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s Sadie,’ she said. ‘Sadie Wise.’

‘I know. What the hell do you want?’

Sadie bristled at his rudeness. ‘Well, I can see your manners haven’t improved much.’

‘Unlike your marital status.’ Stone gave a loud snort. ‘Thanks for getting me involved in all this by the way. I really appreciate it.’

‘I didn’t get you involved. All I did was to ask for his address. And anyway, there’s nothing to be involved in. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill him.’

‘Oh, yeah? Try telling that to Wayne Gissing.’

Sadie gave a start. ‘What? Who?’

‘He’s Kelly Gissing’s brother. Kelly was the girl who was going out with Eddie when —’

‘Yes, I know who she is but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.’

‘Don’t you?’ Nathan Stone made a harsh clicking noise in the back of his throat. ‘Well, you should. The Gissings are the family from hell and they’re not best pleased about what’s happened.’

‘But —’

‘But nothing,’ he said. ‘You know what? I really don’t want to discuss this over the phone.’

‘So how else are we supposed to discuss it?’

‘The usual way. Come and see me. We’ll talk face to face.’

Sadie gave a sigh. ‘And how am I supposed to that? I’m two hundred miles away.’

‘So get in a car, get on a train. It’s not that hard.’

‘I can’t. The police don’t want me to leave Haverlea.’

‘You’ve got a problem then.’

Sadie, gritting her teeth, tried to keep her voice polite. ‘Look, all I want to know is whether you’ve heard anything, any rumours about who might have murdered Eddie.’

‘Apart from you, you mean.’

‘It wasn’t me.’ She felt a sudden flurry of panic in her chest. ‘Is that what people are saying? That I did it?’

‘How would I know what people are saying?’

‘I thought you knew everything.’

‘Not everything,’ he said, ‘just enough.’

Sadie felt like banging her head against the phone box. ‘Okay, put it this way. If I was to come and see you, could you tell me anything useful?’

‘Define useful.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Maybe,’ he said.

‘Do you have any idea of why he was killed?’

Nathan Stone gave a grunt. ‘Sadie, I’ve already told you. I’m not talking about this over the phone. I’ve got to go, okay?’

‘Can’t you just —’

But the line had gone dead. Sadie slowly replaced the receiver. What was it with people hanging up on her today? She thought about calling him back but decided it would be a waste of time. Nathan Stone wasn’t going to give her any more than he already had – which was very little. There was only his comment about the Gissings to think about, a comment that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The family from hell. Did they really believe that she’d killed Eddie? It wasn’t the most comforting thought.

Sadie picked up her carrier bags and left the phone box. She had made two calls but was no further forward than when she’d started. Joel would be wondering where she was; it didn’t take this long to buy a few groceries. It was time, regretfully, to tell a few more lies.

20

It was dark and cold outside and the snow, although it had more or less cleared from the streets, was still lying on the garden. Mona smiled as she made her second circuit of the grounds, her Wellingtons crunching on the ice. She hadn’t been sure if Sadie would call – some people had a habit of reneging on their promises – but now she felt guilty about ever having doubted her. A deal was a deal and Sadie Wise wasn’t the type to go back on her word.

Mona thought about the day they’d met on the train. She couldn’t say exactly what it was that had drawn her; it was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, a feeling deep inside, an instinct, a gut reaction. And it hadn’t just been that Sadie was attractive – there were plenty of pretty girls in the world – but because she had a kind of aura about her. Fate, she decided, had thrown them together.

‘Fate,’ Mona uttered into the silence of the garden. Now that was something else her so-called father didn’t believe in. It could be added to a long list that included coincidence, premonition and even chance.

‘You make your own luck in this world, Mona. If you work hard, you’ll get rewarded. Nothing’s going to fall into your lap.’

‘Well, we’ll see,’ she murmured.

It had to be fate that she’d seen that film a few weeks before bumping into Sadie. It was an old Hitchcock movie, black and white, and she’d only stayed up to watch it because she wasn’t feeling sleepy and had nothing better to do. But gradually she’d got drawn in, fascinated by the plot. The perfect murder. What could be more compulsive viewing than that? And while she’d been watching, the seed of an idea had started to grow inside her.

Mona scuffed up the snow with the toe of her right boot. Sending the book to Sadie had been a nice touch, she thought. It had taken her a while to find it in the shop as she hadn’t had a clue as to who the author was. After searching for ten minutes, she’d asked an assistant for help, a plain girl with glasses and stringy brown hair. The girl had gone straight to a shelf and passed the book over to her.

‘Is this the one you’re looking for?’

It turned out the writer was called Patricia Highsmith, an American author Mona had never heard of. She’d made a quick scan of the synopsis on the back just to make sure that it was the right novel. Even reading the description had given her a kick, as if she was studying the blueprint for her own future plans.

‘Yes, this is the one.’

While she’d been paying, she had wondered if the assistant would remember her. But why should she? And even if she did, there was no reason why she would ever make the connection between the purchase of a crime novel and two murders committed months apart and in completely different areas of London. No, that wouldn’t be a problem. She was sure of it.

Mona had used the name Anne when she’d called Sadie’s flat because that was the name of the girl in the book – and because she hadn’t wanted to reveal her real identity to Joel. And Sadie had realised of course. Sadie had got it straight away. That was because they were on the same wavelength. Their understanding went beyond mere friendship; they were bound by mysterious threads, by ties that could never be broken.

Sadie was smart too. Of course she couldn’t come to London. Not right now. And it wouldn’t be sensible for Mona to send the Beretta through the post. What if it got lost or Joel was there when she opened the package? God, that would be a disaster. She would have to find another way of getting the gun to her.

Mona strode on towards the high wall that surrounded the garden. As she tramped around the perimeter, she took a half bottle of vodka from her pocket, unscrewed the lid and took a swig. Various schemes were revolving in her head. Over the past few days she had drawn numerous maps of the house and grounds, trying to work out the best way of Sadie gaining access. When the time came there could be no room for error; everything had to be perfect.