The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

her more cheerful. He wasn’t sure how he’d cope if she started to cry. ‘I’ll wait until the locksmith comes before I leave.’
    ‘But why go to all that bother?’ Now she was furious and he thought it was only the anger that was holding her together. ‘Wait until Dennis was in the back garden and slip into the flat and steal the key. And how would the intruder know he’d have my key in the first place?’
    ‘Did you tell anyone that Dennis kept the key? A friend?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘A good guess then,’ Ashworth said. But he was thinking that they were dealing with someone intelligent. Or an experienced burglar. Someone had planned this carefully, reccied both flats in advance. And, like Nina, he was wondering why anyone would go to all the bother. ‘You’re sure nothing was taken?’
    ‘Absolutely certain.’ She looked up from her coffee. You do realize I was a target, like Tony Ferdinand and Miranda? If he hadn’t been scared off by the siren, he’d have killed me like the others.’
    Ashworth didn’t answer. He sensed her growing paranoia and couldn’t think what to say that wouldn’t feed it. ‘Were there apricots in any of the stories written during the course?’ he asked at last.
    ‘I see what you mean.’ She gave him a quick nod of appreciation. ‘You think the intruder was copying a scene from a piece of fiction, in the same way that the murder on the terrace was stolen from my work. But no, I don’t remember anything like that. Of course I didn’t see everything the students wrote. Though when I first saw the apricots they reminded me of something I’d read, it was nothing recent.’
    ‘Where will I find that written material?’
    ‘Lenny sent me his novel as an email. I can show you that now, if you want. And I’ve already given you the few paragraphs that Miranda read at the party.’
    Joe nodded. ‘No soft fruit there,’ he said. He was pleased to see her give a small smile. ‘And I’ll ask Lenny to let me have a copy of his book.’ He looked at her. ‘Is there anywhere you could stay for a while? A friend who might put you up?’
    ‘You think it’s not safe here? Even with new locks?’
    Again he tried to keep his tone light. ‘I’d worry about you.’ Not really a joke, but she tried another smile.
    He thought she’d dismiss the idea out of hand, but she considered. ‘I’ll ask Chrissie, my publisher. She has lots of room.’ She picked up her phone, but didn’t dial immediately. ‘I think someone was following me last night,’ she said. ‘How do I know they won’t follow me to North Farm?’
    ‘I checked the street before I came in,’ he said. ‘There was nobody there.’
    He stood in the road and waved her off. Now the children in the posh school were spilling out of the gates at the end of the day. A couple of small boys were playing conkers, swinging the nuts hard on long shoelaces. A few parents waited in smart vehicles to collect their children, but none of the cars pulled off when Nina did. Joe drove fast, back to the police station.
    Holly was on her own in the office, eyes fixed on the computer monitor. She looked up when she heard Ashworth come in. ‘Was Nina all right?’
    He shrugged. ‘Shit scared, but putting on a brave face.’
    ‘What was it? A run-of-the-mill burglary.’
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘Anything but that.’ He thought the place seemed very quiet. ‘Where’s the boss?’ He still couldn’t bring himself to call her Vera, found it difficult even when they were on their own in the pub or she was bending his ear at her house.
    ‘She spoke to Alex Barton on the phone and then disappeared up the coast. She didn’t tell me where exactly, or why. You know what she can be like. A drama queen. She said she’d see everyone for the briefing tomorrow.’
    Joe always felt disloyal complaining about the inspector behind her back. ‘And Charlie?’
    ‘God knows.’ She stretched and rubbed the back of her neck.
    He nodded towards the screen. ‘What are you up to?’
    ‘I’m trying to trace Miranda’s publisher. The books are out of print and they’re not on Amazon. Nobody recognized that piece she read at the Writers’ House. There’s no support for Vera’s theory that she’d been writing again.’
    ‘Except the piece that she read.’
    ‘Mmm,’ Holly said. ‘That could be years old.’
    ‘The boss has got one of the books in there.’ He nodded through to Vera’s office. ‘I saw a copy on her desk. Cruel