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W ork the next day was a challenge, and that was putting it mildly.

“Are you all right, Charlie?” Milly said as I limped past her to collect some dirty cups from one of the back tables.

“Yep.”

“It’s just you’re walking funny.”

“Overdid it at the gym,” I said. “I’m fine.” I staggered over to the counter and dropped the tray. I nudged it in her direction. “Would you mind taking that into the back? I’m going to hang out here and do some gentle stretches.”

She bustled off with the tray and I folded at the waist, bracing my forearms on the counter and letting them take some weight. I swayed an inch to one side then the other.

I inhaled a sharp breath. My inner thigh muscles weren’t having it. Or my hips.

Someone opened the door and poked their head in, shooting a quick glance around. It was Ray, and he had Phil with him. “Is it safe to bring him in?”

“Yep. Dougal’s been and gone already.”

Ray came in, Phil plodding along beside him.

Phil’s head lifted when he caught my scent and he picked up speed, aiming his plodding in my direction.

“There’s my lovely boy,” I said from where I was. “Hello. Hello, my good boy.” I glanced up at Ray. “I cannot move,” I told him. “Sorry. Overdid it at the gym.”

“Uh-huh,” Ray said.

“Did Phil behave himself last night? Thanks again, by the way.”

I’d crashed out after the mind-blowing sex with Kevin. The moment I woke up about an hour later, I started fretting about getting back to feed and walk Phil. At which point Kevin, who’d been awake and watching me with wide, unblinking eyes, said that he’d already texted Adam not to expect me home that night, and Adam had texted him back saying that he hadn’t been expecting me in the first place, and if I had shown up, then Adam and Kevin would have been having words.

By the amusement on Kevin’s face when he relayed that last bit, I didn’t think he was quite as threatened as Adam had intended him to be.

“He was his usual self,” Ray said, giving Phil’s fluffy head a ruffle. “You know, I’m more than happy to take him whenever you want another long hard night overdoing it at the gym.”

“Ha ha. Sorry about leaving you to do everything.”

“Charlie, I was happy to.”

“Drink’s on me. Usual cappuccino?”

“Yes, please.”

“Coming up.” I straightened, doing my best to hide my grimace at the twinge in my thighs, and tottered over to the bean grinder. I narrowed my eyes at Ray over my shoulder, daring him to say something.

He shook his head, not even bothering to hide his smile.

Once I’d made Ray’s drink, Phil came into the kitchen with me for a cuddle since Pippa wasn’t there to disapprove. Ray joined us to sip his cappuccino, snitch a brownie from the basket of fresh ones I hadn’t taken out to the front yet, and get the gossip on the dead bodies.

“Since I’m the founding member of the Dollhouse Murder Club Support Group,” he said, “you can’t ban me for asking.”

I laughed. “Dollhouse Murder Club Support Group?”

“Yeah. I designed us a logo and everything.”

I eyed him. “You did not.”

“I did. I’m getting us membership cards printed, and t-shirts, and mugs. The little enamel ones. I was thinking a kerchief for Phil to wear?”

I eyed him again. “You’re serious.”

“Yes, I am. This is fun. It’s a lot more exciting when it happens to someone else.”

“Thanks, Ray.”

“You are very welcome.”

“I still can’t believe I’ve had those dead guys in my house the whole time I’ve lived there.”

“I lived with mine for five years,” Ray said.

“I had more.”

He pulled a face. “You already know mine were a seventies doll and a clown doll. I never got a good look at the one in my guest bedroom and Liam still won’t tell me what he was dressed as. I guessed Batman. He neither confirmed nor denied. What was yours?”

“I’m not supposed to say.”

“Founding member,” he said, pointing to himself. “Dollhouse Murder Club Support Group. I bought you a t-shirt, Charlie. Next-day delivery. It’ll be here tomorrow.”

I laughed. “If I tell you, will you keep it to yourself?” Liam might try to arrest me if he found out, but I’d never been one for rules. Besides, this was Ray.

“I will tell Adam,” Ray warned me.

“I assumed.”

“Other than that, yes. I will keep it to myself.”

“Cowboy.”

“ Cowboy ,” he breathed. “Way cooler than a carnival clown.”

“He was a Wild West cowboy. Hat and spurs. Bullwhip. Crazy facial hair. The works.”

“What about the others? I read Karen Strickland’s article on the Inquirer’s website, and she said four were stretchered out.”

“That’s what I hear. I never saw them.” I gave him the highlights of the worst Saturday of my life while he scoffed the rest of his brownie.

Ray hummed. “Have you read the papers at all? Checked Facebook?”

“It’s bad enough living it. I don’t need to read other people’s opinions on it, thanks.”

“Does Kevin know they’re calling him the Chipping Fairford Corpse Finder?”

I crossed my arms over my chests and grinned. “Yeah. He’s not a fan.”

“And yet you’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

“Because this morning I realised that it’s only a matter of time until Craig Henderson the attention ho tries to cash in on it.”

Ray pulled a face. “Sounds like something he’d do. I don’t see how he’ll manage to make it about him, though. He wasn’t even there.”

“Right, but how long do you think it’s going to take for him to try and pimp Kevin out? I can see the ad now. Worried your Chipping Fairford property is another dollhouse? Get a special survey from the Cotswolds’ most successful Corpse Finder. For only two hundred pounds, Kevin Wallis will check your property and give you peace of mind! ”

“Shit,” Ray said. “Yeah, he’ll do it.”

“He definitely will. I can’t wait. I hope Kevin quits and goes into business on his own.”

“It’s a stupid nickname, but they’re not wrong. He does keep finding them, after all. Do you think we should invite Kevin to join the club?”

“Seems only fair. We should invite your dad, too. He found the clown.”

“Good idea. And Marley. He was driving the digger. He and Dad are still fighting about which one of them gets credit for the discovery.” He finished the last bite of his brownie and glanced down at Phil, who was gazing (mostly) at him with hopeful adoration. “No, Phil,” he said. “I’m saving you. Chocolate is bad for dogs. We talked about this at breakfast when you wanted my Coco Pops.”

Phil sighed.

“Liam said I can get back in the house later today,” I said.

“That’s quick. They were at my house for days. Do you think they’ve got any new evidence along with the bodies? Do you think they’ll solve the case this time?”

I shrugged. “I think it’ll pan out exactly the same as yours. Random, long-dead corpses found in a secondary location, no suspects. It’s the coldest of cold cases. I’m sure the police have plenty of fresh murders to occupy them.”

“Yeah.” Ray helped himself to another brownie and took a big bite.

“You want another cappuccino to wash that down?” I asked.

He nodded.

I stuck my head through the doorway and asked Milly to make one when she had a moment. My legs had seized up again.

Bouncing on it was, apparently, a young man’s game. Or a fitter-than-me man’s game.

I handed Ray a napkin. “My money’s on Karen Strickland being the one to solve it, if anyone ever does. She’s got the time and the energy, and unlike Liam, she only has to think about this one case. She’s already been investigating it for years, did you know?”

He dabbed neatly at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. She’s interviewed me a couple of times now. She’s been over to photograph the house and garden, too. Have you given her an interview yet?”

“We had a quick chat yesterday, but all she wanted was some quotes. I don’t think it counts as an interview.”

“She’ll ask you for one soon. I’m pretty sure she’s writing a book.”

“Then one day I’ll buy a copy and find out who the murderer was, and why they were hiding bodies all over Chipping Fairford. Until then, I plan to move on with my life.”

“Good plan,” said Ray. “Worked for me.” He smiled, getting that smitten look on his face he always got when thinking about, talking about, or existing in the presence of Adam Blake. “Worked great.”

And I did move on.

With Kevin.

Worked for me, too.

Liam released the house that afternoon, but it was a while before I slept there again. Kevin and I walked into my bedroom and stared at the mess for a bit, then walked right back out.

“Let’s stay at my flat until the weekend,” Kevin said.

I didn’t argue. The forensics crew had destroyed the wall while extracting the other three bodies and it would take a while to clean up. We could have stayed in the guest room but why would we when we could go to Kevin’s beautiful tidy flat instead?

We sneaked Phil up to the flat with us and got busted the next morning sneaking him down again by Kevin’s landlady. Marzena failed to be won over by Phil’s unique charm—his clumsy head-to-the-groin greeting wasn’t always a hit. Luckily, Ray welcomed Phil back with open arms and was more than happy to keep him until we’d sorted the house.

Pippa demanded that I let her open and close the next weekend, since she’d proved that she was more than capable of doing it, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I finished work on a Friday afternoon and didn’t even set foot in The Chipped Cup until Monday morning.

Kevin obviously got very excited about moving up his remodelling plans, now that everything was in a shit state anyway. I didn’t bother arguing.

A hot, wonderful, amazing, young man wanted to fuck me silly, roll off, and go and install a new bathroom while I had a nap to recharge my energy for round two?

Fine by me.

Once he’d promised to keep detailed financial records so I could pay him back for parts if not labour—to be tussled over later—I turned him loose on it.

A couple of months ago, life was very, very different.

I had a dilapidated house, the beginnings of what threatened to become a serious high blood-pressure problem, an aching well of loneliness I refused to admit to, and zero hint of change or improvement on the horizon.

Now, here I was: I had the best boyfriend in the world. I loved my dog and my job. I had excellent and trustworthy staff. I was more than capable of telling off the horde of journalists that descended when the news blew up and hit the national headlines, and I was more than happy to let Karen Strickland photograph my house before the best boyfriend in the world gave it the Homes and Gardens treatment.

In return for giving Karen access, as soon as Kevin had finished working his magic, she’d write a follow-up article for the Inquirer.

Supposedly, it would be to update any interested readers on the case. Really, the after photos would be a fantastic showcase of Kevin’s amazing skills.

Once other people saw what he was capable of, I knew that he’d start getting inquiries. And, once he realised that he had options, maybe he’d get to do more of what he loved, whether he stayed with Craig or went into business on his own.

I’d tell Kevin the plan before Karen wrote the follow-up. If he didn’t like it, Karen would leave him out of the article entirely, and keep the focus on the update.

He and Craig did indeed have the showdown that I’d anticipated, because Craig was indeed that much of a hustler.

It didn’t even take him three days to try it on.

To my disappointment, all that happened in the end was that Craig agreed to stop calling Kevin at the weekends, he stuck that stupid sign on his own damn car rather than Kevin’s Land Cruiser, and he swore never to call Kevin the Chipping Fairford Corpse Finder again.

To his face or on his advertising materials.

Yes, life was good indeed.

And then Kevin went up into the loft.