Page 42

At the end of the hall was a wide, carpeted staircase that curved gently up and around to the left, but we didn’t take it, passing beyond and through the final set of doors in the hall instead. Through a tall window beneath the stairs, I caught a fleeting glance at the back of the house – the garden must have been twice the size of the building, its winter flowerbeds perfectly maintained and as symmetrical as the façade.

The kitchen was enormous, but cosier than I’d been expecting. I gaped, resting my hands on the doorframe as I took in the chunky wooden worktops, dark cabinets and artful underlighting. Beneath my feet the clay tiles were warm, and I grinned – but Adam paid me no mind as I turned on the spot. Huge, high windows took up most of the back wall, and I could tell that come morning, this room would be stunning. And filled with sunlight. No wonder it felt safe here.

Adam was contemplating the contents of the huge, brushed steel fridge that stood by another, smaller door, and said something I didn’t catch.

I shuffled my way toward a stool at the breakfast bar, running a hand through my still-damp hair to air it. “Hmm?”

“Would you like something to drink?” he repeated, halfclosing the fridge door to look at me.

My body was desperate for caffeine, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. Instead, I nodded, and stared at my hands on the counter. I could practically feel Adam’s gaze boring into me, and I knew his pale blue eyes were assessing my bedraggled appearance. He closed the fridge with a small sigh.

“Perhaps this calls for something stronger,” he mused before raising his voice a shade and resting his hand on my shoulder. “Come with me.”

We didn’t speak as I followed him out of the kitchen, across the hallway and through another door that stood ajar near the bottom of the staircase. Adam paused on the threshold.

“This used to be the smoking room. Of course, I haven’t indulged in the habit in years, so I had it converted…”

“It’s a music room?” I guessed. One wall showcased a sleek, expensive-looking sound system, its polished chrome gleaming against the rich, dark wood-panelled walls.

Everything was set for ultimate comfort – presumably so Adam could enjoy the music better. Soft throws, deep armchairs, all centred around a majestic stone fireplace complete with roaring log fire. It could have been a set from a catalogue… or something Jon cooked up.

“Yes. I thought you might like it,” he gestured to the sofa, and obediently I sank into it, grateful to be closer to the flames. I tucked my feet under myself as Adam fiddled with several dials, and a quiet acoustic track began to play, filling the room from every direction with the female vocalist’s lament. Taking a deep breath of the balmy applewood smokeand vanilla scent that seemed to fill the room, the tension finally began to leave my body.

“No bookshelves.” I gestured at the walls. It was true – the room was panelled from floor to ceiling, but there wasn’t a book in sight. “I thought you were a lover of literature?”

His returning look was solemn as he took two cut crystal tumblers from a cabinet built into the wall, but I could tell he was holding back a smile. “The library is on the first floor.”

“You’re not serious?” I asked, though, on second thought, I had no doubt it was true. “Can I see?”

Adam laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, making him momentarily look older. “I imagine I will show it to you, but I don’t think now is the time…” He trailed off as the laughter left his face. “I dare say, I was surprised to hear from you tonight.”

I remained silent as he poured two drinks from a crystal decanter of golden-amber liquid. He handed one to me without a word, and I took a sip. There was a honeyed sweetness to it that I hadn’t been expecting, smooth and smoky and strong.

“What is this?” I examined my glass and took another sip.

He added a dash of water to his own glass. “Whisky. They call it the Golden Dram.”

I nodded, waiting. “I met your friend.”

A crease appeared between Adam’s eyebrows, smoothed away quickly. “I see. Well, that explains quite a lot.”

“I met Isabel Wyatt too, although it seems like days ago already.”

He nodded, apparently already aware of this. “Shementioned she might try to speak with you. She believes I did not make enough of an effort, though I explained the situation.”

My earlier guilt returned immediately. “I’m sorry about that, Adam. Honestly. I… I’d just got back from a funeral, and Tom was being weird, and – well, the last time I saw you, you were with Wyatt, outside Maggie’s flat!” I sipped. “What was I supposed to think?”

Adam held his glass delicately to his lips and took a drink, glancing at me sideways. “I quite understand. Had I been in your position, I would imagine I’d have had thrown me out too. It was all very suspicious.”

“I didn’t throw you out—” I protested.

“I was joking.” He put the glass down beside a vase of purple-lipped irises, and faced me, pulling one knee up onto the sofa. “But the point remains – I don’t think Izzie is committing these crimes, and I can’t bear to think it could be Nick.”

I sighed and took another taste. It was warming me far more effectively than the fire. “I need more than your word on it, Adam.”

He took a deep breath, reaching for his glass again. “I have little more than that. All I can tell you is I’ve known both of them for a great many years, and in that time, I have never known either of them to do anything like this. But Izzie seems quite certain, and no doubt she has her reasons.”

“Right,” I scoffed. “They’re fluffy little bunnies, the pair of them.”