‘This place should have been my mother’s. Not yours,’ blurts out Nancy.
‘What?’ I look at Rachel, who is furiously noting down the conversation.
‘We never meant no harm,’ says Janice, quickly, clearly trying to dig herself out of the mess she’s made, as it hits her she could get into serious trouble. ‘I like you, Kirsty. And you, Adrian. You have a lovely family. It wasn’t personal.’
Adrian is staring at them as though they’ve both sprouted an extra head. ‘Not personal?’ he splutters. ‘I’d say that noose was very personal.’
‘Violet Brown was my aunt,’ says Janice. ‘She hanged herself here, in the early 1950s.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I say. ‘But I still don’t understand …’
DS Middleton clears his throat impatiently. ‘You both need to be formally interviewed,’ he says. ‘Come on.’
Janice and Nancy stand up and follow him from the room. Nancy is still crying, although Janice is more composed. Only the slight trembling of her hands gives her away.
I watch from the doorway as they troop to the car after DS Middleton. Rachel brings up the rear. They make a motley crew: Nancy with her shiny leggings and dyed black hair scraped into an eyebrow-lifting topknot, and Janice resplendent in another tent-like frock. She holds Horace under one arm, his eyes bulging.
My head is spinning. I don’t understand what any of this has to do with Selena.
Two hours later Rachel phones. She tells me that Nancy and Janice have admitted under caution to the dead flowers, the accompanying note and the noose.
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘They felt your house should have stayed in their family,’ she says. ‘They had some naïve idea about trying to scare you into selling up. They had wanted to buy it back and, apparently, because it had been standing empty for years, they thought they had a chance to get it cheap.’
I swallow. ‘Right. So the dead flowers – none of it is anything to do with Selena?’
‘That’s right. Do you want to press charges?’
I sigh. ‘No.’ I don’t want the police to be distracted by this. They need to find Dean. He might not have sent the flowers, but I’m still convinced he killed Selena.
Janice returns a few hours later. She’s full of contrition as she packs up her things, stuffing her caftans into a suitcase. Horace sits in the middle of the bed, watching her with big, mournful eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she says, for the third time. ‘I’m so grateful that you’re not going to press charges.’
‘Did the police question you about Selena?’
‘Yes. But I honestly didn’t have anything to do with her death – you’ve got to believe me.’
I do, but I’m not going to tell her so. Let her sweat a bit. I’m still shocked and disgusted by what she’s done. Just because I don’t want the police to press charges it doesn’t mean I’m not furious. I just want them to be looking for Dean.
‘Where will you go?’ I ask.
‘I’ll see if the pub can put me up for a bit, then go home.’
‘Are you really psychic?’ I don’t know why I ask. It’s not as though I ever seriously believed her.
She pauses and turns to survey me. Her eyes are sad. ‘I’m sorry.’
It had sounded so out there, so Mystic Meg, that of course it had been an act. I don’t know why I didn’t see through it sooner. It was just another scare tactic, like Mrs Gummage trying to convince Evie we had a ghost.
Without saying anything further I leave the room, letting the heavy fire door bang closed behind me.
I stand outside Janice’s room, my heart racing.
‘Are you all right, love?’
I start. Adrian is behind me. I didn’t hear him come up the stairs. ‘I’m fine. Would you mind keeping an eye on Janice? Make sure she leaves the premises and hands over her key? She’s in there, packing.’ I incline my head.
‘Sure. I’ll wait here.’
