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‘I treated myself,’ Julia told Jake, who was sitting at her feet, watching her arrange her flowers in a large glass vase. ‘Arranging’ was a bit of an overstatement, because they fell naturally into a lovely loose design. Nothing much further was required, and the fiddling and fluffing up was more out of habit and for her own pleasure, than for necessity. Julia knew that she sounded a little defensive. She lived comfortably but fairly frugally, and didn’t often buy extravagant non-necessities. And Blooming Marvels priced its wares for London solicitors with weekend places in the Cotswolds, not retired social workers.

Jake gazed at her in adoration, as usual. He thought she’d made a great decision. In fact, he thought she deserved more treats. Preferably edible ones. Sausages would be nice.

She wondered where the other, almost identical, bunch of flowers had ended up. The one Oscar had bought to send to someone. Who was the J to whom the note had been addressed? Was it Jane? Or were they for some other woman? A girlfriend, perhaps? Or just a friend, someone who had done him a kindness in this time of trouble? A Jackie or a Jennifer or a Joanne.

Julia thought back to the sighting of Jane and Oscar, the way they had leaned into each other, speaking softly. Julia thought of Jane’s hand on Oscar’s arm. It had seemed comfortable, a familiar gesture.

And then there was the kiss.

Julia tried to recreate the scene in her mind, to remember exactly what she had seen in that moment that Jane had turned towards Oscar and kissed him. Had it been on the cheek? Julia thought so. If Jane’s lips had touched Oscar’s, it would have been just a glancing touch. It hadn’t been a smooch, that was for sure. But there had been something intimate about the whole scene – her hand on his arm, the kiss goodbye. Was it the intimacy of old friends? Or something more? Were Oscar and Jane involved, as they had been in the past? Was that why Graham had died? It didn’t bear thinking about.

The question was whether this was something Julia needed to talk to Hayley about. Hayley might well know about the history between Jane and Oscar, but she wouldn’t know how close they were now. The way the two of them had walked, and that kiss – it was two people who were very familiar with each other. And the flowers that Oscar was sending to ‘J’. It could only be Jane. Then there was Oscar’s strange, cryptic statement about it all being for the best. Plus, Angela had said that Oscar was a good customer, so perhaps this had been going on for some time. While Hayley might not welcome Julia’s opinions on this, she had to know or she might miss something important about this case. Julia had no choice, she realised. This was more than gossip; this could be a clue. A clue that could lead to a killer, and get Julia and Tabitha cleared of any suspicion at all.

Hayley Gibson answered the call on the second ring with a rather gruff ‘Julia’. Julia, who had been expecting a bit of a longer ring, and then the usual niceties – a ‘hello’ at least – was flustered.

‘Oh, Hayley. Yes. Hello. Hayley, I’ve had a thought…’

‘Is it a thought about a steak pie? Because I’ve had not a bite to eat since breakfast, and I’m finally on my way out of the office, so a steak pie is pretty much the only thought I’m interested in hearing right now.’

‘It’s a thought about Oscar.’

There was a pause, in which Julia heard Hayley open the car door, get in and slam the door. Her phone must have connected to the car, because Julia heard the engine start, and Hayley’s echoing voice: ‘What was that you were saying, Julia? I didn’t hear that last thing.’

Julia decided to go with the pie, and not mention Oscar at this point.

‘I was saying that I happen to have a steak pie in the freezer. If you like, I can pop it straight into the oven. You can come by, we’ll chat about the other things while we eat the pie.’

On the other end of the phone, Hayley was weighing up her options.

‘What other things?’ she asked, suspiciously.

‘I’ll tell you when you get here. I’m going to put the oven on. See you soon.’

Hayley sighed. ‘Okay. On my way.’

By the time the doorbell rang, the pie was in the oven, and Julia had the makings of a salad on the chopping board. A jug of home-made lemonade and two glasses stood on the table. It was early to eat dinner – not much after five – but the days were getting shorter and Hayley was hungry. Needs must, as Julia’s mother always used to say.

‘Hello,’ Julia said, as she opened the door.

Somewhat surprisingly – as she’d not mentioned him – Hayley was accompanied by a stocky young man in black jeans and a black leather biker’s jacket. This was an unusual turn of events. In the time she and Julia had known each other, Hayley had never brought a date, or in fact discussed her romantic life at all. Julia knew Hayley lived alone, but there was never a mention of a partner, or even an occasional date. A couple of gentle enquiries from Julia had been left hanging, or answered with a vague and non-specific dismissal: ‘Oh, it’s been a while since there was anyone special.’ Julia realised that Hayley’s lack of disclosure had been so effective that she had no idea whether the last someone special had been months, years or decades ago, or whether they were male or female. Julia had always thought female, but now, here was this fellow, who must have been a good ten years younger than Hayley – not that Julia was judging. Each to their own. He stood patiently, a step behind Hayley. Gosh, was he the one who had given her that beautiful orchid? He must be!

‘Oh, hello!’ Julia said eagerly, as if she’d been expecting him, too. She would have to set another place. ‘You are very welcome, come on in.’

Hayley went inside, without so much as introducing her friend, who she left standing stiffly on the doorstep. Really, that detective was a strange one. Julia smiled at him warmly. ‘Julia Bird,’ she said, offering him her hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’

‘Um, Brian,’ he said. Instead of shaking her outstretched hand, he offered her a bunch of flowers.

‘These are gorgeous,’ she said, admiring the pale hydrangeas and pretty blooms and grasses that were, in fact, exactly the same as the ones she had bought at Blooming Marvels. They would have to sit in the kitchen, she decided. She couldn’t have Hayley’s friend see that she already had the same bunch, arranged in the sitting room.

She stepped back to encourage him into the house. He seemed terribly awkward, teetering there at the threshold. And terribly young.

‘Really, so kind of you, Brian. You didn’t have to bring flowers.’

Yes, each to their own, but goodness, in the better light, she saw he must still be in his twenties. Oh, God, could she have misread the situation? Could he be someone else? Hayley’s brother, perhaps? But she was only aware of a sister, who she’d met when Hayley was laid up with a broken leg.

‘Um, I did have to?’ he said, not budging, and now looking nervously from side to side, as if someone might come and rescue him from this peculiar situation. ‘I’m, like, the delivery guy from the florist? It’s my job, y’know? Can you sign, please?’

He held a pen and a delivery book out to her. Blooming Marvels , it said.

Julia could feel her face turn the fiery shade of a geranium, or a rose, or perhaps a Flanders poppy. She was pleased to be able to lower it and stare intently at the paper, while she scrawled her name.

‘Thanks, Brian,’ she said, handing over the pen, and shutting the door.

‘Those are nice, what’s the occasion?’ Hayley asked. She had already sat herself at the kitchen table and poured herself a glass of the home-made lemonade. Chaplin had taken the opportunity to occupy her lap without so much as a by-your-leave, while Jake, who loved Hayley Gibson with his heart and soul, and who would ordinarily have rested his own head on her knee, looked on sadly from a distance.

‘None, as far as I’m aware.’

‘Is Sean one of those men who just sends you flowers for nothing? Just to be nice?’ The question came out somewhere between wistful and sarcastic.

Julia took a somewhat panicky mental inventory of her relationship with Sean, in case it was the anniversary of their first date, or something. She wasn’t very observant about that sort of thing, but she couldn’t think of anything that might warrant sending flowers.

‘I don’t even know if they’re from him,’ she said.

‘You mean there are other candidates? My word, Julia Bird. You are a dark horse! ’

Instead of answering the teasing, Julia gave a stiff laugh and opened the envelope. She took out the little card, already knowing what she would find.

The large looping first letter – the J – told her that her instinct had been correct.

Julia,

Thank you for being a good friend.

Oscar

X

Julia took out a big stoneware jug and filled it with water. She pulled the twine off the flowers and plonked them into the jug without explanation. For the second time today she fluffed and fiddled unnecessarily with a bunch of blooms. She was playing for time while her mind turned over the events of the day, and what they all meant. The recipient of Oscar’s flower purchase was not, as she’d suspected, Jane, but Julia herself. They were nothing more than a generous thank you gift.

Did that change anything? She had seen Jane and Oscar, their familiarity, their intimate gestures. Her hand on his arm. The kiss. The odd statement.

‘So, are they from Sean?’

‘Actually, no.’

‘Well, who are they from? What does the card say?’ Hayley asked. She seldom asked personal questions, but her detective brain loved a mystery. She clearly couldn’t resist the question.

‘They’re from Oscar.’

Hayley didn’t say anything, just stroked the cat with a rhythmic gesture. Julia was reminded of the villain in James Bond, the one with the fluffy Persian on his lap.

When the silence got too much, Julia said, ‘They’re only a thank you gift for helping him yesterday.’

She put the jug of flowers on the kitchen table.

‘The pie will be ready in about ten minutes,’ she said. And then blurted, because she couldn’t bear the silence and the stroking of the cat, ‘I saw Oscar and Jane together.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes. They were walking down the road. She had her hand on his arm. Linked, sort of. And they were talking. Quite seriously, you know. Heads down.’

‘I see. And how did they…?’

‘And then she kissed him.’

‘A long kiss? Like a smooch?’

‘I wouldn’t say a smooch. They were on a public road.’ Julia was aware of sounding like a Mother Grundy. ‘What happened was, , they were walking together, arm in arm, talking, and they got to the intersection. She was going one way and he the other, and they kissed goodbye.’

‘Ah, well, a kiss goodbye.’

‘That’s different, isn’t it? From a kiss kiss, I mean. That’s what I thought, too. But I thought I should mention it to you anyway. As the investigator.’

‘On the mouth or the cheek?’

‘The kiss? I don’t know. It seemed like mostly the cheek, but perhaps somewhere in between.’

‘But not lingering.’

‘No. Not lingering. But not a peck on the cheek, either.’

‘Her husband was killed just a week ago.’

‘I know. I was there. I’m sure it’s nothing.’

Hayley made a hhhmmph sound.

The oven timer made a brrriiinnnggg sound.

Julia’s phone made a diddly-dee sound.

A message had arrived.