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dialled Bella Morleigh’s number later that afternoon, all she heard was a rather pompous male voice asking her to leave a message. She did so, being deliberately vague, and said she would call again. She was surprised, therefore, to receive a call from a breathless woman while she was getting ready to go out with Guy.
    ‘Mrs Castle?’ asked the woman. ‘I’m Bella Morleigh. You rang earlier.’
    ‘But I didn’t leave my number,’ said Fran.
    ‘You happened to be the last caller, so I dialled 1471,’ explained Bella Morleigh. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
    ‘No, of course not,’ said Fran, cursing herself. ‘So, how can I help you?’
    ‘Um, well,’ said the voice dropping to almost a whisper, ‘it would be better if I could meet you. Would that be possible?’
    ‘Where?’ asked Fran, not wanting to commit herself to yet another trip to London.
    ‘I’ll be down on Thursday. Could I come and see you? Or meet you somewhere?’
    ‘Are you staying in Nethergate?’ said Fran.
    ‘I was recommended to a pub in somewhere called Steeple Martin.’
    ‘Right,’ said Fran slowly, with a grin. ‘Call me when you get down here and we’ll decide what to do.’
    ‘Thank you so much,’ whispered Bella. ‘Oh – I must go now. I’ll speak to you on Thursday.’
    Well, thought Fran, as she switched off the phone. What’s she afraid of?
    Guy Wolfe picked her up half an hour later, and on the way to their newly favoured out-of-the-way pub for dinner, Fran told him about Bella Morleigh and Inspector Connell’s strange request.
    ‘Fancies you,’ he said, echoing Libby.
    ‘Oh, not you, too,’ said Fran, ‘of course he doesn’t.’
    ‘Wouldn’t blame him,’ said Guy looking at her briefly, teeth sparkling above his neat goatee beard.
    ‘Well, it isn’t that. And this Bella person sounded scared of something. No, not scared exactly, nervous.’
    ‘Well, if she’s mixed up in a murder, no wonder. Weren’t you nervous back in the summer?’
    ‘Of course I was, but I don’t think it was that. It was something about where she was.’
    ‘At home?’
    ‘Yes. Her husband? Why would she be scared of him knowing she was speaking to me? How odd.’
    Their meal was a success. The pub, just outside a village on the other side of Canterbury, was in danger of turning itself into a gastro-pub, but just managing to stop short. Guy was a popular guest and had even persuaded the owners to hang some of his work. Fran noticed two of Libby’s efforts in an alcove, which pleased her, as they were views from the window of her soon-to-be cottage. She sighed with pleasure, reflecting once more on the astonishing coincidence that had brought about this change in her fortunes.
    ‘Well,’ said Guy, when she mentioned this over their starters, ‘it didn’t really, did it? The contents of your uncle’s will would have come out whatever else happened, and you would have ended up in the same position. The only coincidence was your old Auntie being down here after Ben had brought you down to help Lib and Pete and the theatre.’ He frowned. ‘Yes, that’s right. Convoluted, but right.’
    ‘I suppose so. But I wouldn’t have found the cottage, would I?’
    He leaned across and patted her hand. ‘Or me,’ he said.
    ‘So what do you know about the Alexandria?’ asked Fran, as they drove slowly home through narrow, high-hedged lanes.
    ‘It’s never been a theatre since I’ve been in Nethergate. It’s been a carpet warehouse, and at one point a venue for raves, but mostly it’s been shut up and falling into complete disrepair.’
    ‘Would it be possible to restore?’
    ‘Ooo, now.’ Guy tutted. ‘I couldn’t say. I wouldn’t attempt it, although it’s got a beautiful cupola worth rescuing, but not much else.’
    ‘What about inside?’
    ‘No idea. I would imagine a large empty space if it was used as a warehouse.’
    ‘Pity,’ said Fran.
    Guy, as usual, left her after a cup of coffee in the flat, reiterating