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Julia was thoroughly discombobulated by what she’d heard at Second Chances. She had hardly had time to think through what it might mean that it was Hector who had purchased The Complete Works of Shakespeare from the second-hand shop. This was not a case of someone unconnected to the deaths randomly buying a copy of the very book that was the murder weapon. This was someone who was very, very close to the case.

She had to put aside one set of uncomfortable feelings and thoughts for another as she stopped off at the vet, knowing that the long-time receptionist, Olga Gilbert, was no longer going to be at the counter. She was no longer anywhere, the poor thing. She was dead. Both her and one of the vets, Dr Eve. Julia may have had a hand in solving their murders, but she still felt peculiar every time she walked into the vet’s reception. It felt particularly strange now, as her brain grappled with another murder.

‘Oh, hello.’ It was the new receptionist. She sounded surprised, as if she hadn’t been expecting visitors. She looked about fifteen years old, an impression not in any way countered by the rhythmic movement of her jaw engaged with a piece of gum, and the presence of an iPhone in front of her face. She lowered the phone, popped a little bubble between her back teeth, and asked Julia: ‘Can I help you?’

Julia asked for a bag of Jake’s preferred dog food, Pheasant Flavour Doggy Chum.

‘Oh, gosh, I don’t see any here,’ the receptionist said, putting the phone down on the desk reluctantly and glancing over at the shelves of pet food. ‘I think they might have the Pheasant Flavour, but it’s in the storeroom.’ She gave Julia an apologetic look, as if she was sorry they’d come to this dead end, but there was nothing to be done.

‘Well, could we get it out of the storeroom, perhaps?’ Julia asked. ‘Or isn’t there a key?’

‘Oh, yes. There’s a key.’ The girl looked at Julia blankly and went back to chewing her gum.

‘Do you have it? The key?’

‘I think it’s in the drawer.’ She opened the drawer unhurriedly and picked up a key with a red tag, marked STOREROOM . ‘Here it is.’

‘Let’s get the dog food out then, shall we?’

Julia used the plural, but expected the receptionist to bestir herself and fetch the food. Instead, the girl handed over the key and said, ‘Go through to the back room. The food is in the big cupboard on the right; just open it and see what you can find.’

Julia felt fairly sure this wasn’t the customer’s job, but her interactions with the girl had been so unsatisfactory so far that she thought she might as well just fetch the food herself. She wandered through to the back room, where she came across Dr Ryan at a little table doing some paperwork.

He looked startled to see her. ‘Hello, Mrs Bird. Everything all right? Are you here with Jake? Why are you…?’

She held up the key. ‘Jake’s fine; I’m just here for his food. I was sent back here to get Pheasant Flavour Doggy Chum – there’s none at the front.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘Let me get it for you. This temp is hopeless, I’m afraid. Even so, I can’t believe she is sending the customers to do errands.’

Julia handed him the key with its red tag. ‘I don’t really mind, but I must say it was a bit of a surprise.’

‘Well, she’s been here for a week and today is her last day. Apart from anything else, it turns out she doesn’t like dogs! She’s scared of them. Can you imagine anyone not liking dogs? Let alone not liking dogs and taking a temp job at a vet’s? I’ll have to ask the agency to send someone else. Someone a bit more sensible. Someone who likes dogs.’

Dr Ryan sighed. He went into the storeroom and came out with a bag of dog food hefted under his arm. He looked so unhappy.

‘I’m sure you miss Olga. She was so efficient. And she loved dogs.’

‘I do miss Olga. And Dr Eve. It’s been difficult, actually, getting on with work without them.’

They shared a moment’s silence at the memory of the two women, and then went into the reception area. A woman and a little boy were waiting. The boy had a large rat in a cage on his knee. The rat had a bandage on its leg.

‘Hello, Tom; hello, Ratty. I’ll be with you in a mo,’ said Dr Ryan. To the receptionist, he said, ‘Please ring this up; I’ll take it to Mrs Bird’s car.’

Julia went out to the car with him and opened the boot. Poor Dr Ryan, having to make do with such terrible staff on top of a doubled workload. And now he was carrying dog food to the car. It was a pity he couldn’t find someone permanent to replace Olga. Someone reliable. Someone who loved animals, and dogs in particular. He needed someone young and cheery; but not too young or too cheery.

Julia was struck by a good idea. Well, she thought it was a good idea. She hesitated, though. It wasn’t without risk. Oh, what the heck, might as well give it a go, she thought. The events of the past week or so had made her feel bolder, more eager to grasp the moment, because honestly, who knew what the future held? She addressed the vet: ‘I know someone who I think would be perfect for your reception. He’s a young man who has just moved back to the area and is looking for temporary work to start with. He is quite sensible and absolutely brilliant with dogs. Jake adores him.’

‘Please ask him to phone me. He can’t possibly be as dim as this poor girl.’

‘I can tell you for certain that you wouldn’t have to worry that he’d send a customer to get a big bag of dog food from the storeroom herself.’

‘He sounds like a genius. I look forward to his phone call.’

On the drive home from the vet, Julia thought about Hector, and his recent purchase. She knew he liked his Shakespeare. In fact, hadn’t he boasted that he’d learnt all the lines of all the plays? Something like that. But presumably he already had a copy of the Collected Works . Or at least the individual plays. How would he have learnt them otherwise? And why would he be buying another? Unless…

Unless he’d lost his copy. Julia could still see the scene of Roger Grave’s death, the book lying next to his body, its flattened corner matching a bruise from the blow to his temple. Could Hector have hit Roger Grave over the head with the heavy book? If so, his original copy was in the forensics lab, and he was now in possession of a replacement, purchased at Second Chances.

She reached instinctively for her phone. This was something she needed to tell Hayley Gibson about. While her hand was digging in the well between the seats, her mind was racing to the next logical thought about Hector. A bicycle turned into the road. The cyclist took the turn a little wide and wobbled too close to her. Distracted by her thoughts and the search for her phone, Julia saw him only just in time to avoid him. The near miss shocked her into concentration. She abandoned her scrabble for the phone and put both hands on the wheel, both eyes on the road, and her mind on the job of getting home safely. When she got there, she would phone Hayley Gibson and tell her about Hector and the book.

The more she thought about it, the more suspicious she felt, and the more sure she was that Hector had been the one wielding the heavy book. But why? Hector had been disappointed about the casting of the play, but that surely was no reason to kill a person? And where did Graham’s death fit in? Even if Hector had thrown the Shakespeare at Roger in a fit of rage, why on earth would he have killed Graham?

As soon as she parked the car, she found her phone and searched for Hayley’s number. She hit the ‘dial’ button as she got out of the car. Hayley answered before she’d reached the front door.

‘Hello, Julia.’

‘Hello.’

‘I suppose you are phoning about Nicky’s hit-and-run.’ Hayley wasn’t much one for a preamble. Straight to the point, was the DI. ‘Well, you can relax. We watched the tapes. The alleged would-be male murderer was a little old lady swerving to avoid a pigeon. She missed Nicky by miles. It was not an attempt on her life, as she thought.’

‘Ah, well, that’s good news, I suppose, but that’s not why I was phoning…It’s…’

Julia stopped, sensing movement from the path behind her. There were two figures coming towards her. It was already heading for dusk, and she couldn’t see the faces, but by their shape, it seemed they were men. It was a sad reality that even in sleepy Berrywick, the sight of two unknown men on a quiet road could make a woman feel uneasy.

But Julia had a horrible feeling she knew who it was. And if she was right, she might well be in far more danger than she had initially thought.

Hector and Troilus came into view.

But Hector didn’t look at all aggressive. In fact, he approached with a friendly smile on his face. Troilus trailed behind, his face blank, and Julia briefly wondered if Hector worried about him the way that Sean worried about Jono.

‘Hello, Hector,’ she spoke loudly, to make sure that Hayley could hear, and would know who was there with her. ‘Hello, Troilus. Give me a minute, please.’

Speaking into the phone, she said, ‘I can’t chat, there’s someone here, a surprise visitor. I just wanted to let you know I’m at home, so you are welcome to pop round as we discussed. Okay, bye.’

He was right by her now, a big canvas satchel hanging heavily from his shoulder. She wondered if the book was in it, and what else might be. Did he have a weapon, perhaps?

‘Can I help you, Hector?’ she said, with what she hoped was a calm smile.

‘Yes, hello. We were out for a walk and I remembered that you lived around here, and I told Troilus about you, Julia. How you provided so much of the set and props from the charity shop where you work, and how you’ve even helped the police solve several murders, and how you have such a wonderful dog. And then Troilus suggested we continue past your house so that I could show him the dog. I hope I didn’t startle you.’

Troilus looked absolutely blank at this story, which Julia thought he well might – it was such an odd and unlikely story that she suspected Hector had made it up on the spot. But why? Why mention the charity shop? The charity shop where just today he had bought a replacement copy of Shakespeare. Was he trying to threaten her by mentioning it? That, and the solving of murders? It all seemed far too spot-on to be a coincidence .

‘Not at all,’ she said, trying for a breezy tone that would reassure Hector that she suspected nothing. Although she did suspect something – she suspected that Hector had come here on purpose.

Julia was scared.

She told herself not to panic, that she was probably overreacting. After all, Hector hadn’t seen her at the shop today; he didn’t know that she knew he had bought a replacement Shakespeare. Still, there was something odd about this visit. She hoped against hope that Hayley Gibson had heard her, and got the message – that Julia was at home, and Hector was there, and she needed her help.

Hector continued as if he was just out for a chat. ‘It was a hard day, wasn’t it? The cast meeting upset me, rather. The fragility of life, the unpredictability. It’s so confronting ,’ he mused.

‘Yes, it was hard. To think that two of our number are dead.’

‘“The time of life is short!” to quote Henry IV . The Bard, of course…’

‘Yes, indeed, and made significantly shorter, in the case of Graham and Roger.’

‘Awful. Just awful, what happened, Julia. But life must go on.’

‘Indeed it must!’

Standing there on the doormat, they could hear Jake’s whining and the scratch of his feet as he turned excited circles on the other side of the door. Julia found the front door key on the bunch in her hand and held it to the lock, ready to let herself in.

‘The dog!’ said Hector. ‘How silly of me. You wanted to see him, didn’t you, Troy?’

Troilus seemed to rouse himself. ‘Definitely,’ he said. ‘I would like to go in and see that dog.’

Julia didn’t want Hector or Troilus in her house. She suspected – strongly suspected – that Hector had been responsible for Roger’s death. But if she said no, he might realise she suspected him, and that would definitely put her in danger. She tried a different tack.

‘I’m really sorry, but Jake is so impossible with visitors. He gets completely overexcited; a visitor can set him off for the whole night.’

‘I really, really want to see that dog,’ said Troilus. He looked at Julia like a child who had been denied a treat.

Julia sighed. Perhaps the lad really did have a sudden need to meet Jake, and the timing was just unfortunate. Surely Hector wouldn’t threaten her in front of his son?

Realising that she had no option – other than saying outright ‘I think your father might be a murderer and I won’t let him into my house’ – she unlocked the door and went in. She left it open behind them, to reinforce the fact that this was a short pop-in to meet Jake, and – her heart raced when she had this thought – in case she needed to run.

Jake didn’t let her down on the overexcitement front. He hurled himself about the place like a loon. A loon who’d been locked in a dark cellar for a week, and was starved of human company.

‘Ah, what a good boy,’ said Hector, rubbing Jake’s head enthusiastically. ‘Look at him, Troy. Isn’t he a fine boy!’

‘He’s very nice,’ said Troilus, who barely seemed to be looking at the dog. ‘Very brown.’

‘Well, you made us come all this way, Troilus,’ said Hector. ‘Give the dog a pat.’

Julia recognised the exasperation that only a parent could feel with a frustrating child. Usually though, the child in question was a bit younger than Troilus. It was almost like he had frozen at the age he was when his mother died. Hector put his satchel down on the table with a thump.

Chaplin, who was sitting on the table, hissed in Hector’s direction as the bag went down. It was true that Chaplin tended to be entitled and supercilious, but Julia had never seen or heard him hiss at anyone. Was this some kind of sign? Was Chaplin some kind of savant cat who could detect evil the same way as those people who could find water with twigs?

Now she really was being ridiculous, she told herself sternly. The cat was simply annoyed at the disturbance.

She tried to reassure herself again that Hector couldn’t know that she knew he had bought the Complete Works . She was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her at Second Chances when he was there earlier. As far as he was aware, she knew nothing about the book, and wasn’t busy constructing theories about his involvement in Roger’s murder.

His next statement seemed to be innocuous enough: ‘Sorry, cat. I didn’t mean to bother you.’

Chaplin gave him a withering look and turned away. Hector seemed unperturbed by the cat’s behaviour. Troilus had finally roused himself into action, and bent down to give Jake a pat. ‘Good dog,’ he said. Jake’s tail thumped with pleasure. A pat was a pat, no matter how unexpected the person delivering it.

Hector, to Julia’s dismay, pulled out a chair and sat down, smiling benignly at Troilus.

‘Such a tragedy, Roger’s death,’ he said. ‘And Graham’s. And things always come in threes.’

Julia froze. The man was absolutely cold-blooded! He sat there with a smile on his face, as good as telling her that she would be the third death. Julia reached out and held on to the back of one of the chairs to steady herself.

‘Hector, I really think…’

But Hector, as ever, had no interest in what anyone else thought.

Hector had only one thing on his mind.