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Josiah nodded, thinking about the day Peter had died and how he’d give anything to go back and change that, too.

Alexander glanced over his shoulder, shot Josiah a tight smile, and then left the room.

Sitting back in his chair again, Josiah tried to make sense of it all.

Of course, it was entirely possible that Alexander was a total drama queen, intent on creating mysteries where none existed, and yet there was something here – he was certain of it.

Having met Tyler, he believed the man was capable of everything Alexander had said, and more.

He felt sorry for Alexander, trapped in such a horrendous situation.

How had he survived it for so long? According to his file, he’d been George Tyler’s IS for four years, and then Elliot Dacre’s for three.

No wonder Elliot had seemed like a better houder to Alexander, despite his predilection for displaying him at shows as if he were a pet, and the weirdness of calling him by his late husband’s name.

If Alexander was going to snap and kill his houder, then surely that person would be George Tyler and not the silly but relatively harmless Elliot Dacre?

The buzz of his holopad broke through his thoughts, and Liz’s face popped up in the air.

She was plumper these days, and her dark hair had little silver streaks at the temples, but Josiah thought that age had only increased her beauty.

Her uncle had died a few years ago, and she’d hired an artistic young man to help out in the pottery.

They’d fallen in love, and now Liz was the mother of three beautiful, boisterous children.

Josiah was happy for her; she deserved it.

She was living proof that Peter’s work had been worthwhile.

“Hey – you didn’t return my call,” she accused.

“Sorry – busy.” He smiled apologetically. “Although you did speak to me just a few days ago.” She was one of a small group of his close friends who called every year on the anniversary of Peter’s death.

“I can call you more than once a week, can’t I?” She grinned.

“You can, but rarely do. What’s going on, Liz?”

“I heard the news. Big Jen brought some newbies here today on her way to LKG, and she told me about it when she dropped them off.”

“What news?” Josiah parried.

Liz rolled her eyes. “The fact that you’ve taken on an IS. You, of all people. I thought it must be a mistake, so I called you, and voilà – he answered. I almost freaked out.”

“It’s a work thing. I don’t want him here – Esther insisted. It’s for complicated reasons to do with a case I’m investigating.”

“He’s very good-looking. Very sexy. ”

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed,” he deadpanned.

“Hmm. Right. Honestly, if it was anyone but you, I’d worry, but I know you’d never take advantage of an indie. I almost wish you would. Seriously, Joe – Peter wouldn’t want you living like this.”

“Like what?” Josiah glared at her.

“Like a bloody monk. You’re flesh and blood, and you deserve to be happy. It’s been seven years – he’d have wanted you to find someone else.”

“Liz, we’ve had this conversation many times before…”

“Well, if you’d listen to me, we wouldn’t have to have it again.”

“I’m fine,” he said flatly.

“You’re not. Look, I adored Peter. He was a lovely, good-hearted man, but he was also flawed and human. Don’t turn him into a saint and worship at his altar for the rest of your days. He’d have hated that.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Aren’t you?” She put her head on one side and studied him thoughtfully.

“Peter was one of the most charming men on the planet, but we both know he used that charm to get his own way. He dragged you along on a journey you weren’t always comfortable with because he sweet-talked you into it.

So, don’t sit there and pretend he was so perfect you can never find another man to hold a candle to him. ”

“He was the love of my life,” Josiah said tightly. “How could any other man come close?”

“Maybe give one a try and see?” she suggested.

“How are the newbies doing?” he asked, in a valiant attempt to change the subject.

“Scared of their own shadows, overly earnest and eager to help, but worried about doing the wrong thing – you know how newbies are. God, was I ever like that?”

“Yeah, you were,” he chuckled.

“You must have wanted to slap me.”

“No, you were very sweet. Which ones are they?”

“It was probably you who drove them down to Folkestone a few weeks ago: a little Chinese woman, a couple of Dutch guys, and an older woman who talks a lot when she’s nervous – it can’t have been easy for you to get her out of the country.”

“I remember her.” Josiah grunted. “When she’s really scared, she shuts up completely, which was a huge relief. I thought at one point I might have to gag her.”

“I’m sure one of your cold stares would have sufficed,” Liz teased.

“Anyway, they’re fine. They’ll be with me for a few more days, and then Big Jen is coming back to pick them up and take them on to various other places.

” At that moment, a small child scrambled onto her lap.

She hauled him up and pointed at the screen. “Say hello to Uncle Joe, Peter.”

Little Peter grinned a gap-toothed smile and waved a podgy hand. He was the youngest of Liz’s children, and had a mass of dark curls like his mother.

“Hey, Uncajo!”

“Ask him when he’s going to visit us again, Peter,” Liz said, but the little boy just laughed and slid off her lap without saying goodbye.

“Not anytime soon,” Josiah told her. “Maybe in the spring.”

“You could bring your new IS with you. We could release him into the wild,” she said with a wink.

“He’s only temporary. I don’t get to keep him. Or release him,” he added more sombrely. “I wish I could.”

She picked up on his change of mood. “Joe – I’m sorry. He’s got quite a reputation, this Alexander Lytton. I assumed you’d be glad to hand him back to Esther when your case is over, but it sounds as if there’s more to it than that.”

“I help transport escaped indies out of the country, Liz,” he explained wearily. “I don’t make them live in my house, cook my dinner, and clean my shoes.”

“Is that what he’s doing?” She asked, looking startled.

“Yes. I don’t ask him to do it – he just does. I didn’t want to bring him home, but the alternative was the probate system, and I thought he might have a lead on the case, and Esther… no, it wasn’t Esther’s fault, it was Peter’s.”

“Peter’s dead, dear. You know that,” Liz chided. “How can it possibly be his fault? ”

“I heard his voice in my head telling me to bring this one home. I argued with him, but you know how Peter can be.”

“God, yes. Bossiest man I ever met, in the nicest possible way. Well, if Peter insisted, then of course you had no choice.” She smiled at him gently, and he smiled back, enjoying their banter.

Liz knew him better than anyone else in the world, except possibly Elsie.

She’d been a lifeline in the dark days immediately after Peter’s death, calling to talk to him every night when he’d barely been able to function.

He visited her a couple of times a year, between cases, and she always wrapped him in a warm hug and was happy to reminisce long into the night.

“Where on earth are you?” She frowned, looking around suddenly.

“The dining room.”

“You have a dining room?” For obvious reasons, Liz had never been to the house. Her original houder was long since dead, but she was still listed as an escaped IS and technically formed part of his estate, so she’d never be able to return to the UK. “Why have I never seen you in there before?”

“I never used it when it was just me; Alexander makes us eat in here.”

“Are those some of the dreadful things I made when I first started at the pottery?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder at the row of misshapen pots. “God, they’re awful.”

“You were learning. You got better. The wedding vase is beautiful.” Josiah picked it up from the centre of the table and held it up for her to see.

“Hmm, not bad, but I’m much better now. I should send you some of my more recent stuff. Now look, I’m worried about you – this Alexander sounds almost as bossy as Peter, with the making you eat in the dining room thing.”

“He’s not bossy – he’s challenging. There’s something he’s not telling me, and it’s irritating the hell out of me.”

“Well, we all know how you feel about mysteries. I’m sure you’ll solve this one. You always do.”

“I will, and I’m fine, Liz. I’ll catch the killer, and then Alexander will go into probate and be sold to a new houder. ”

“Poor Alexander. Can we really not save him?” she pleaded.

“No,” he replied shortly. “I’ve got half the country’s media camped outside my home right now – it’s hard enough to get him out of the house without them seeing, let alone out of the country.

If I help him, we can say goodbye to the Kathleen Line, and I’m not ready to sell you all out for the sake of one man.

Even if by some miracle I managed to smuggle him out, he’s not someone you can just lose in LKG – he’s the most famous IS in Britain. ”

“Seems ironic. You’ve saved so many of us, starting with me.” She gave a sad little smile. “And now you have this one living under your very own roof, and you can’t lift a finger to help him. That must be hard for you.”

“It is,” he said gruffly. “I’m trying to figure out other ways to help him, but he’s not exactly making it easy for me.”

“You can be quite scary, dear.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she shot him a knowing look that made him close it again with a wry smile.

“Maybe you could try being nice to him?” she suggested.

“I’ve been very nice to him.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’ve been my usual self, but he doesn’t scare easily, trust me.”