The journey was one Lydia had made several times since returning to the area. She left Leesdon via the bypass, made for the M60 ring road, then the M56 and out to Cheshire. The traffic was heavy, and road works on the M60 made the going slow. She checked her watch—she didn’t want to be late. Lydia had planned this down to the last detail, and that included the exact moment when she would approach Marilyn.

At last she reached the tree-lined avenue where the Fallons lived and parked outside a huge rambling house with a ‘For Sale’ sign in the front garden. Then she waited. The Fallons lived directly opposite—a stroke of luck. Lydia checked her phone. Nothing, not even a text from Tom. Just as well, because there was no way she would be summoned back—not after all this effort.

A few minutes later and exactly on cue, Lydia saw Marilyn Fallon’s tall figure emerge from her front door. She pretended to be rummaging through her bag while the woman organised her dog. As she locked up behind her and snapped the lead on his collar, Lydia plastered a smile on her face and pounced.

“He’s beautiful!” she enthused, as she proceeded to lock her car.

“I thought he was a Shar Pei when I first saw you, but I couldn’t be sure. I just had to get out and have a look—I love these dogs. I have one of my own.”

Marilyn Fallon was older than the impression she gave from a distance. She might be clad in skinny jeans and a sharp designer leather jacket with matching knee high boots, but close up her face revealed the true story. Her hair was scraped back and had been over-dyed. Perhaps once she’d been that lovely, long-haired blonde but now the colour was too brassy, and the texture dry and coarse.

Her make-up was too bright, and looked garish in daylight. Here was a woman trying very hard and failing on all counts.

Lydia knew at once she’d been right to move in on the dog.

Marilyn seemed only too pleased to have it noticed. “Yes, he is beautiful, isn’t he? Not many people know the breed.” She smiled.

“Like I said, I have one at home.” Lydia took the photos from her bag. “This is my ‘Ming.’ In fact she’s a blue, like yours.”

“Really?” Marilyn leaned a little closer. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she, Sam?” She stroked the little dog lovingly. “Do you live around here?”

“Not yet, but I’m house-hunting right now.” She nodded at the run-down stone pile opposite. “In fact I’m waiting for the estate agent now. I’ve been looking at property round here for weeks, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one. I never expected to find someone else with one of these, and so close by.” She laughed, and dared to stroke the thing. “It’s really nice to bump into someone who likes the breed as much as I do. Perhaps it’s a sign that I really have found the right house at last.”

“When you move perhaps we could walk the dogs together. It’d be nice to have someone else who has an interest. Does your …

Ming, have all the papers—you know, Kennel Club credentials and everything?”

“Oh, yes. I entered her at Crufts two years ago and she got a

‘highly commended.’ If I had the time we’d do more, but you know how it is.”

Lydia could tell that Marilyn Fallon was impressed. She positively beamed as she stroked and patted the dog some more.

“I’d love to show Sam, but I don’t know if I’d have the confidence.”

“That’s a shame. He’d do so well, and it’s a laugh, it really is.

Everyone is so friendly and helpful. There’s no snobbery at all.”

Lydia was beginning to believe she really did own a dog, she sounded so plausible.

But the dog was getting restless, eager to be off. “Do you plan to breed her?”

“I’d like to before she gets much older, but it’s all about finding a suitable mate.”

“Isn’t it always?” Marilyn laughed. “And not just with dogs either.”

The two women laughed.

Shades of discontent, Lydia wondered? Might be something she could use—a way in.

“Look—if you’re still around when I get back why not come and have a coffee?”

This was going better than Lydia could have imagined. Marilyn was a pushover and it was all down to the dog! “That’s very kind of you. It shouldn’t take long to look around the place. I’ll know straight away if it’s suitable—you know, by the feel of the place.”

The two women said their goodbyes, and Marilyn Fallon disappeared down the road. Lydia went back to her car to wait. This had gone better than she could have imagined—the woman was completely taken in. She’d hang around, have that cup of coffee and arrange to meet her again soon—perhaps a jolly little foursome for drinks one evening. And given that Tom wouldn’t play the game, she’d have to find herself another presentable man for the evening. She felt sure one of her old colleagues from the Echo

would oblige.

Lydia was pleased with her progress. This sort of stuff suited her. It was exciting, like being a spy. The intrigue, the pretending to be someone else—wheedling a story out of the unsuspecting. She loved it all.

Her pleasant reverie, and the quiet of this leafy, well-heeled idyll was shattered as several police cars wheeled into the Avenue.

Within seconds the place was bedlam—sirens, police officers in body armour and helmets—even some with firearms. Lydia had no idea what was going on but, as they descended on the Fallon house, she guessed she ought to leave.

But curiosity got the better of her. She drove a few yards down the road, parked up and hunkered down in her seat to watch the proceedings unfold. The police banged on the front door. One of them gave it the sole of his boot and it flew open. They were in, and they could only be looking for Ray Fallon. But was he there? Lydia got her answer almost instantly.

“Good of you to wait.” A male voice rasped in her ear.

She hadn’t even heard the passenger door open, or seen the man dart across the road. Her heart gave a jolt. “I got away by the skin of my teeth. Far too close for comfort, even for me, so let’s get out of here, pronto.”

Lydia’s heart was beating furiously. She gave the figure a quick sideways glance—yes, Ray Fallon! How had he got here? Large as life, he was sat low in the passenger seat, with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“Don’t make a sound, pretty lady. Pull out nice and slow, and make for the main road through the village.”

“I don’t know what’s going on but this won’t work. They’ll be after us in seconds. Anyway, I can’t drive—I’m in shock. Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t come the innocent with me. You know very well who I am, and more to the point, Miss Holden, I know you. You used to work for the local rag and now you’re shacked up with that cousin of mine.”

Lydia had no idea how he could know all that, but since he did, it seemed pointless pretending. “As it happens I was hoping to meet you today, Mr Fallon.” She smiled, without turning around. She was trying her very best to sound unruffled by what had just happened, but he must have seen her body shaking, because he started to laugh.

“But this wasn’t what you had in mind, I’ll bet.”

“I wanted to interview you.” She tried to keep her voice from wobbling.

“Keep your mouth shut and drive.”

In her rear-view mirror, Lydia could see the mayhem they were leaving behind, but there was nothing she could do to attract their attention.

“Okay. But drive where? Where are we going, Mr Fallon?”

“Leesdon. To see that interfering cousin of mine.”

“Leesdon …? I don’t think I know the place …”

“Oh yes you do, so don’t give me any of that shit. Like I told you

—you’re living with the sneaky bastard. Grant me a little intelligence, Miss Holden. I know just about everything that goes on in Thomas’s life.”

As far as Lydia knew, Tom had no idea. She’d have to put him straight—once she’d extricated herself from this mess.