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‘Yes, indeed, things always happen in threes,’ Hector said, with a deep sigh. ‘One,’ he held up his finger to illustrate. ‘Graham. Two: Roger. And three: Shakespeare.’

Julia, who had been wondering if she would be able to grab a kitchen knife to defend herself, found herself staring at the man, open-mouthed.

‘Shakespeare?’ Surely Shakespeare’s death had been too long ago to warrant being included in this list?

‘Would you believe that this week, of all weeks, my Complete Works went missing? Just as I needed the soothing voice of the Bard to still the sorrow in my heart, it was nowhere to be found. Completely misplaced.’

‘Hector…’

‘But all was not lost. I found a marvellous copy in your lovely little charity shop. Dare I say it, an even more beautiful version than my own. Ah, how I look forward to rereading the great works and annotating them as I did before. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. Or in this case, tooketh and then gaveth.’ Hector gave a slight frown, trying to correctly express the machinations of the deity .

Julia sat herself down in the chair she had been holding on to. If Hector was telling her about his lost Shakespeare, she must have been wrong. There was no chance that he would be sharing this unless he genuinely believed that his book was lost, and not a murder weapon. The police had deliberately not shared this piece of the puzzle – nobody except Julia, the police and the murderer knew about the book.

And if it wasn’t Hector, then someone had taken the book from him, and used it to throw at Roger. It was hard to imagine that someone had taken it specifically to use as a murder weapon – but perhaps the plan had been to leave it on the scene to frame Hector – which is exactly what it had done.

‘Hector,’ she said, in her firmest and most commanding voice. ‘There’s something you should know.’

Hector’s eyes grew rounder and rounder as Julia explained that a copy of the Complete Works had been found next to Roger’s body. He clasped his chest theatrically.

‘Felled by the Bard?’ he said, in clear distress. ‘By my very own book. Oh, Julia, how can this possibly be?’

‘Well, I think the real question is, who could have taken your book?’

‘Nobody,’ said Hector, confidently.

‘And yet, someone did. You just told me that it was missing.’

‘It was in my house, next to my bed. Nobody could get in. The book was just mislaid somehow. Troilus is home most of the time; he would have seen. Wouldn’t you, Troilus?’

Troilus.

Julia had all but forgotten Troilus, in her conversation with Hector. But now she turned to look at him.

He stood frozen, staring at them. She might have thought he hadn’t heard anything that they had said, except for a lone tear that made its way down his cheek.

‘Oh, Papa,’ he said. ‘You always trust people far too much.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Why did you even tell Julia about your missing book? She seems like such a nice lady, and now I’m going to have to sort her out.’

‘Sort her out?’ said Hector. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Troilus?’

But Julia had put together the puzzle much more quickly, and knew exactly what Troilus meant. Her heart was hammering in her ears, knowing what danger she was in. She understood how to deal with troubled young men professionally, and now her life depended on that skill.

‘You were just trying to help your father, weren’t you, Troilus?’ she said, standing up, hoping her voice betrayed none of her fear. She couldn’t have been completely successful, because Jake sat up from where he had been lying next to Troilus, and came over to her. She put a hand on his head, drawing strength from her loyal friend.

‘It’s true. I never meant any of this to happen. Papa just needed help.’

Troilus looked so sad and at sea. Julia knew he had probably had years of feeling lonely and being misunderstood. From his perspective, it was simply another situation where nobody understood what he was trying to do.

‘The best thing to do is to speak to the police. Tell them everything. Explain what happened.’

‘I didn’t mean to kill Mr Grave, you know.’ Troilus said this almost conversationally.

‘What?’ gasped Hector, who seemed to be several steps behind the conversation.

‘I never thought you did,’ Julia said gently.

‘You didn’t?’

‘Of course not.’

Troilus gave her a tiny smile, grateful for that small show of faith. ‘I only went to his house to talk to him. To find out why he never cast Papa in anything. I brought the book so I could show him how hard Papa works, how much he loves the stage. All the notes he made. My papa is a very great actor, and I just wanted Mr Grave to understand that.’

‘Oh, my darling boy,’ said Hector softly, finally understanding. ‘What have you done?’

‘I spoke to him and tried to explain. But then he said…’ Troilus paused, as if seeking the strength to repeat what he had heard. ‘He said that Papa wasn’t any good. Oh, he tried to pretend he wasn’t saying anything bad, said how valuable Papa was as the prompt. But he said Papa is a terrible actor.’ Troilus let out a sob.

‘That must have been hard to hear, Troilus,’ Julia said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It was. It was a lie! Papa is wonderful. He knows all the Shakespeare, all of it! Nobody else can say that, can they?’

‘Hector is certainly remarkable,’ said Julia.

‘Anyway, he said…’ Troilus closed his eyes for a moment, and it was clear that he was remembering words almost too horrible to repeat. ‘He said Papa was the worst actor he has ever seen.’

Julia nodded and made soothing affirmative noises.

‘Papa was on television, you know. He was a great star. Did you know that, that my papa was on the telly?’

‘Yes, of course. It has been mentioned.’ Mostly by Hector himself, but Julia didn’t say that. Nor did she mention that his character had been in a coma for most of the show’s run and he had done next to no acting. Troilus looked pleased to hear that Hector’s fame was well-known.

Hector had stood up and was looking at Troilus, tears streaming down his face. ‘Oh, Troilus, you didn’t…’

Julia thought her heart might break for Hector. The terrible and unique pain of realising that your child has done something bad and irreversible, and that they have done it for you. She could hardly imagine what he must be feeling.

‘I knew if he could hear Papa do Hamlet he’d change his mind. I showed him all Papa’s notes in the book. But he cut me off, really quite abruptly. Rudely. I just got so mad. I saw red. I threw the book at him.’

Troilus stopped talking, breathing heavily in rough, rasping gulps. Julia waited, holding her tongue. His breath evened out and his shoulders softened. He spoke quietly. ‘I threw the book at him. He wanted me to leave, he was walking to the door, so he was in front of me. And I threw it. I can’t throw well. I don’t do sports . I couldn’t hit him if I tried. And I didn’t try, just threw it. I couldn’t believe it when it hit him on the head just as he turned to look back at me. I can still see his face. The surprise, and then he just looked blank. His knees buckled and he went down slowly. And then the crack . His head hit the table. And that was that. He was dead.’ Troilus turned to Hector. ‘I’m sorry, Papa. I know you liked him.’

‘You didn’t mean to kill him.’ Julia spoke softly and calmly.

‘No. You don’t expect to kill someone with a book !’

‘Of course you don’t. It’s the most ineffectual murder weapon imaginable. You must tell DI Gibson exactly what you’ve told me. She will understand, Troilus. And I’ve no doubt the lab results will bear out your version of events.’

His whole demeanour lightened. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘Yes, Troilus, I really do. The head injury will be consistent with a fall, and the accidental blow to his head from the hall table. I don’t think there’s any chance you will be convicted for Roger’s death.’ Of course, Graham’s killing – which she felt certain must also have been Troilus’s work – was another matter. She hoped to avoid that topic altogether, but Hector must have had the same thought at the same time, because he looked at his son.

‘Troilus, did you kill Mr Powell too? Please tell me you didn’t.’

His face hardened. ‘Yes. Mr Powell needed to die so you could get the role, Papa. Obviously.’ Troilus said this like he couldn’t quite imagine why anyone would have an issue with it. ‘You didn’t like Mr Powell, Papa. You said he was a very bad actor. You said if only something would happen to him, you would get your big chance. That’s what you said.’

‘I didn’t mean I wanted him killed, for God’s sake,’ said Hector. ‘I meant that I hoped he got a touch of flu or something. Possibly a sprained ankle.’

‘How was I supposed to know that? I did it for you, Papa,’ said Troilus sadly. ‘You should be a bit more grateful.’

Julia realised that Troilus was actually dangerously unhinged. His sense of right and wrong was not quite the same as other people’s, and Hector was the centre of his strange world.

‘I had to get rid of him,’ Troilus repeated.‘Even though in the end, it didn’t work. You didn’t even get the part, thanks to stupid Mr Grave. And then they cancelled the play. After I sorted out Mr Grave. It was all for nothing, Papa.’

Troilus looked around, blinking. ‘Now you know what happened, Julia Bird. When Papa told me that you worked at the shop, and helped the police solve murders, I knew that you’d figure it out. That’s why we had to come and see you, you know. I don’t really like dogs, actually.’

This was not good. Julia knew that she was in grave danger. Troilus was not a sane man. He would never hurt Hector, but he would certainly hurt her, and feel nothing for it. She carefully backed towards the kitchen counter, where she knew her heavy kettle stood.

She didn’t have to wait long for the threat to become explicit.

‘I’m sorry to say, Julia Bird, that I’m going to have to get rid of you too.’

‘No, Troilus, you do not have to do anything more,’ said Hector, desperately reaching out to his son. ‘We’ll just explain to the police about what happened, and about how you were just doing it for me, and I’m sure that a good lawyer will get you off. No need to hurt nice Julia, is there, my darling boy?’

Troilus sighed, as if he couldn’t believe his father was this naive. He pushed Hector away and reached for the satchel on the table.

Well, Julia wasn’t going to wait around for him to throw the Complete Works at her head, or haul out whatever crazy murder weapon he planned to use on her.

Her fingers made contact with the curved handle of the kettle. She grasped it firmly and swung it towards him. She heard the slosh of water hitting inside it as she let go.

And she heard another thing. A familiar voice saying: ‘There’ll be no more murders, Troilus. Now, put your hands on your head and…’

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. It was as if everything and everyone were suspended: DI Hayley Gibson at the front door, her face set into a stern frown, her arm reaching in the direction of Troilus, Hector leaning towards Troilus – it was unclear whether to stop him or protect him – but his eyes still looking back towards Julia and the kettle, the kettle leaving Julia’s hand, winging its way towards Troilus.

Julia saw it all frozen for a brief second, as if fixed in Perspex, and then all the pieces began to move again, continuing their trajectories.

The kettle connected with Troilus’s chest just as Hector’s hand grasped his shoulder to pull him back, and Hayley grasped his arm. Julia instinctively stepped forward, followed closely by Jake. Jake’s feet scrabbled on the floor, wet from the kettle, and he barked a bark she’d never heard before – loud and sharp and angry.

The kettle hit Troilus hard, and for a moment he wavered between keeping his balance and falling, but the wet floor had the final say, and his feet slid out from under him. He fell so fast, and with such force, that Hayley and Hector both lost hold of him. Struggling to stay upright herself, Julia watched Hayley launch herself at Troilus, using her weight to keep him down, stopping him from making any further moves towards Julia.

But he didn’t move.

The fight had gone out of him. He let out a small, sad utterance, somewhere between a shout and a wail. Jake gave him a warning growl, but it wasn’t really necessary – Troilus’s whole attitude was one of defeat. There would be no further danger from him.

‘Oh, my boy, my boy,’ said Hector, wringing his hands, looking at the scene of chaos. ‘What have you done!’

Jake growled again.

‘It’s okay, Jakey,’ Julia said, patting her leg to call him away. Chaplin watched from the counter, as if presiding over the scene from the pulpit.

When Hayley Gibson spoke, it was with her hand on Troilus’s shoulder in gentle restraint that appeared almost like a priest giving her blessing: ‘You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

Hector sobbed quietly as he watched his son slowly stand up.

‘I did it for you, Papa,’ Troilus said, as Hayley led him away.