"Olivia, once again, I'm sorry for being so rude," Daisy said as she topped up my coffee. "I'll know better than to listen to rumours in future."

She'd apologised at least seventeen times in the last half hour, but I pasted on another smile.

"Daisy, it's fine, honestly. I'm not one to bear a grudge."

Luckily, neither was Warren, and he'd joined Maddie, Mickey, and me for drinks and cakes in the café. Carol had tracked the origin of the gold-digger rumours down to an evening canapé party thrown by the Palmers. It seemed every guest got given a version of the story with their glass of champagne, and once they left the manor, the tales spread like wildfire.

"This is all on the house, of course. I still can't believe Fenton Palmer murdered his own wife. Do you know why?"

"Nobody does yet."

"They used to fight," Warren said. "She called me a couple of times, drunk, wanting me to drive her to stay with a friend in London."

"Do you know what the arguments were about?" I asked, my nosiness coming to the fore.

Warren stared at the wall, thinking. "One time, it was the amount of time Fenton spent on the golf course. Another night, a disagreement about Tate's upbringing, and then she reckoned Fenton was having an affair." He wrinkled his nose. "She was wasted that time. Puked in the footwell, but at least she forked out for the valet."

"I suppose that's something."

"Yeah. I got the impression she was high maintenance, but killing her?" He shook his head. "That poor woman."

"At least he can't hurt anyone else."

Fenton had been taken to jail two days earlier. Nye made sure I was safely tucked up in front of the television when it happened, but he'd driven to Upper Foxford to make sure the locals didn't balls things up, in his words.

A task force from the neighbouring town had done the honours, advised by Nye's friend from the Met, and they'd woken Fenton at dawn and arrested him in his pyjamas. The local reporter had been more switched on than Graham, because he'd hotfooted it down there with his camera and snapped Fenton being led out of Prestwold Manor in handcuffs, looking furious. The pictures were plastered all over the front of the Foxford Express the next day.

Mickey had a copy spread out on the table in front of him.

"A crime of passion, it says here. Fenton told everybody she ran off with the gardener so they'd think she was still alive."

"Cold," Maddie said. "You had a lucky escape, Liv. Just think, he could have been your father-in-law."

Just think. No, I didn't want to. "It's Tate I feel sorry for. I mean, all that time, he thought his mother had abandoned him, when really she was lying six feet under just a few hundred yards away. Nye said he broke down when the police interviewed him."

Mickey's eyes dipped to the paper again. "It says here that Fenton even sent postcards to Tate, pretending to be his mother."

I nodded. Nye had told me that much was true. Apparently, Tate had been distraught over what his father did to me as well, especially as it was he who'd told Fenton which evenings we were going out together.

I'd considered calling him to offer my...sympathy? Condolences? But I wasn't sure what to say. Maybe I'd leave it a week or two and then try? When my own mother passed, the pain had eased with time.

"At least Tate can bury his mother properly now," Maddie said.

"I guess that might help."

Nye had been there yesterday afternoon when they found Helena, right where Ronnie said she would be. Her body had still been wrapped in the plastic sheeting described in the letter.

"These cakes are good." Maddie shoved another slice of Bakewell tart into her mouth. "But not as good as yours, obviously. What time is the loss adjuster coming?"

With Nye's time taken up with the aftermath of the Fenton Palmer case, Maddie and Mickey had offered to keep me company while I travelled to Upper Foxford to meet the man from the insurance company.

"Midday. How many more calories are you planning to burn this afternoon? We won't have any heavy lifting to do—the building surveyor said it's not safe to go inside."

"Maybe I'll go to the gym when we get back to the city. Or Dave can give me a workout. How are things going with Nye, by the way?"

I glanced at Warren, who looked away. Dammit, I felt awful for the way he'd been treated in this whole debacle, and I still wanted him as a friend. Thankfully, he'd accepted when I invited him to join us, and the last thing I wanted to do was rub my new relationship in his face.

"Okay. They're going okay."

"I never put on weight," Mickey said, munching his way through a giant cookie. "It's the family curse."

We both glared at him, and Maddie huffed.

"People like you make me sick."

He just grinned at her and took another bite.

Another cake or two later—okay, three—I couldn't put off my return to Lilac Cottage any longer. Thank goodness I didn't have to go alone. Not only had Fenton terrorised me there, but Larry Hazell's nocturnal visits creeped me out. He was still on the loose, and that bothered me. How many other women's privacy had he violated? They wouldn't all have a Nye to stick up for them.

"You okay?" Warren asked. "You've gone pale."

"I'm just dreading going back to the cottage, that's all."

Mickey gave my hand a squeeze. "I still feel bad about what happened. If I hadn't tracked you down..."

"She'd have been sleeping on my couch, baking constantly and tidying everything," Maddie said. "Actually yes, you should be sorry for tracking her down."

I laughed. "Mads, you'd be the size of a house by now if you ate that many cakes. A gym membership wouldn't cut it. You'd have to hire that boot camp guy off the telly. Besides, Mickey, if you hadn't found me, I wouldn't have met Nye."

"Good grief, your eyes have glazed over," Maddie said. "Where is Mr. Dreamboat today, anyway?"

"In a meeting. He's taking me out for dinner later, though. It'll be our first proper date."

"Is he splashing out on somewhere nice?"

Warren and Mickey had gone on ahead to Maddie's car, but I still lowered my voice. "I don't know. It's a surprise. But I can hardly wait—all his other surprises have been amazing."

"Ooh, I want details."

"You're not getting any."

"But you clearly are."

A few minutes later, Maddie drew up outside Lilac Cottage and parked at the top of the driveway. Further up, it was still impassable. This was the first time I'd been back since the night of the fire, and the place looked even worse in daylight. Soot-blackened water had formed into icy stalactites holding on to any part of the building still standing.

Not that there were many of those.

The dining room end had collapsed completely, leaving a pile of broken bricks and charred roof timbers. A single chimney breast and part of the front wall rose jaggedly from the debris.

An involuntary sob escaped. I may not have loved Lilac Cottage, but it had been my home.

"It's okay, Liv," Maddie said, giving me a hug.

Thank goodness Nye had been with me that night. If I'd been alone, or if Spike hadn't installed his sensors, I wouldn't be standing here now. Graham would be puzzling over my murder rather than watching Spike's video of a black-hooded figure stealing out of the woods to throw firebombs through my windows, and Maddie would be planning my funeral. According to Nye, the police had added attempted murder to Fenton's list of charges.

Looking at the devastation in front of me, I hoped he got a good long stay in jail.

The insurance man turned up five minutes late, then spent twenty minutes poking around, pulling faces and tapping his clipboard.

"Total loss, this," he said as he snapped away with his camera.

One didn't need to be a genius to work that out.

"So, what happens now?"

"We'll get the place rebuilt. Have you got somewhere to stay in the meantime, or do you need us to find you alternative accommodation?"

"I've got somewhere."

He scribbled more notes. "That makes things easier. I'll get a partial payment issued in the interim so you can start replacing your clothes and whatnot."

"Thank you."

At least I could offer to pay Nye back for the clothes he'd bought me, although I had a feeling he wouldn't accept my money. He'd already given me his credit card and told me to buy anything I wanted. His only request was that I bought plenty of fancy knickers so he could tear them off me. I'd been only too happy to oblige.

Tonight's were pale pink with black lace, complete with a matching bra and stockings. I planned to cook us a nice dinner, but I wasn't sure we'd make it through to dessert.

After the loss adjuster left, we took a last look around ourselves, but there was nothing to salvage. Anything that didn't succumb to the fire had been covered in water or trodden on. Nye's dented, windowless BMW was still sitting beside the twisted remains of the two trucks. It had suffered even more damage after we'd left when Graham accidentally reversed his squad car into it.

"Do you want to head back to London?" Maddie asked. "I'll buy you a drink before you go to Nye's. You look like you need it."

Coming from anyone else, the comment might have insulted me, but Maddie had a heart of gold. "Make it a double."

We'd almost reached her Fiesta when a shiny Mercedes pulled up in front of us.

"Is that..." she started.

Warren finished for me. "Tate Palmer? Yes."

He looked every bit as awful as I'd feared when he climbed out of the driver's side. His rumpled clothes and stubble were a far cry from his usual dapper appearance. On Nye, that look worked, but Tate just came across as untidy.

Even worse were his eyes, swimming with torment as they met mine.

"Olivia."

"Hi, Tate."

"I was driving past, and I saw you here... I... I..." He gave his head a little shake, as if he was trying to get rid of unwanted thoughts, and glanced at my support team. "I don't know where to start."

"I'm so sorry about your mother."

"I just can't... My father... How could he..."

I took both of his hands in mine. "It must have been such a shock."

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he looked behind me again. "Have you got a few minutes to talk? I need to apologise."

I glanced behind and sighed. Maddie had fixed him with a hawk-like stare, and he was withering under it. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

"Would you mind? This is...well, it's not easy with an audience."

Tate was as much a victim in all this as I was. The least I could do was listen to what he had to say, especially as I'd had a hand in his life falling apart, however unwittingly.

"I won't be long," I told Maddie. "Maybe half an hour?"

I raised an eyebrow at Tate, and he nodded his confirmation.

"Can you drop me back here?"

He held the passenger door open for me. "Of course."

"We'll be waiting," Warren said.

Maddie took a step towards her own car. "Not here. The café. We'll be waiting in the café."