Page 107 of The Stranger in Room Six

My phone pings with another text from my boss.

Newspapers are asking for physical documentary proof. We need that list of names in order to erase Bedmont’s name before someone else finds it. You’ve got twenty-four hours.

That’s it. He doesn’t say any more. He doesn’t need to. I’ve seen what happens to those who don’t deliver.

They are found in car scrap yards. Discovered at the bottom of lakes.

Or they disappear without trace.

Mouse, I tell myself, in a voice that sounds like my mother’s, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time.

I almost feel sorry for myself. But hell, twenty-four hours is twenty-four hours. I can do something in that time. I’ve got to.

Outside, they’re putting up the banners for tomorrow’s summer barbecue, which is always held on Mabel’s birthday. But through the window, I can hear grumbles.

‘I don’t know why we’re doing this for her.’

‘We don’t know for sure that she’s guilty, do we?’ says another.

‘My family are still coming. They want to have a nosy around, especially after those headlines.’

For me, the barbecue could be the break I need. Parties, barbecues, dances – any kind of community crowd – are always good for hiding crimes. People are too busy enjoying themselves to notice what’s going on.

Even better, everyone will be outside, including the hostess.

Tomorrow will be my last opportunity for a good snoop around this house. And despite what my boss said about no bloodshed, I’ll take my gun. Just in case.