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Christ, he was slurring already. Just as well they’d arrived later than most of the other guests. He’dnever been a hardened boozer, and it didn’t take much to get him pissed. ‘Happy New Year!’
    She tilted her glass and turned her cheek to allow him to kiss it. Instead he fumbled for her backside.
    ‘Come on, Marc. You’ve had enough.’
    ‘Why must you always be such a spoilsport?’ His breath felt hot on her neck. ‘I mean, we can’t leave yet. It would look rude.’
    She had to raise her voice to make herself heard above the din of the fireworks. ‘I don’t want you falling flat on your face. We’ve had one scene here already tonight.’
    He chortled. ‘Excellent, wasn’t it?’
    A barrage of coloured cornets shot into the sky, transforming into graceful palms, followed by candles that soared and roared and became golden branches, seeming to reach almost to the people gathered on the ground. They gazed up to the heavens and held their breath, wondering what might come next.
    Hannah feigned covering her ears as another explosion echoed in them. How many thousands of pounds going up in smoke, right in front of their eyes? Stuart Wagg never knew when to stop. He had no restraint.
    ‘So, you know the woman who had the hissy fit?’
    He smirked. ‘You’ll never guess her name.’
    ‘No need to guess, though I should have recognised her from the press pictures. Louise Kind told me she is Wanda Saffell.’
    Yes, the recently widowed Wanda. Out on the razzle with her husband barely cold in the grave? A bit naughty, on the face of it, but Hannah knew better than to jump to conclusions. The fact the woman had chucked her drinkat her companion and then run weeping from the room showed that her nerves were in bad shape.
    ‘You always know everything,’ he mumbled.
    ‘If only.’
    ‘All right, then. What was all the fuss about?’
    ‘Good question.’ Hannah found herself itching to know the answer.
    ‘Tell you one thing.’ He leant towards her. ‘You were wrong about the driver who nearly ran into us out in the lane. That wasn’t some boy racer, it was Wanda.’
    ‘You think so?’
    ‘A waitress told me she’d only arrived five minutes before us. Marched in and grabbed a glass of champagne, then knocked it back in a couple of gulps and demanded a refill.’
    Hannah looked round. ‘Is she still here?’
    ‘Raj Doshi, one of Stuart’s partners, gave her a lift home. Said she wasn’t fit to drive in her sports car.’
    ‘We’ll make a detective of you yet.’
    ‘If you ask me, that woman has anger management issues.’
    ‘Psychologist as well as detective, eh? Come on, time to go.’
    As she took Marc’s arm and headed back for the warm indoors, she recalled the sight of Arlo Denstone, fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. Still with the hint of a smile on his face, he’d begun to mop his cheeks as a dull crimson stain spread across the front of his jacket.
    Anyone would think Wanda Saffell had stabbed him in the heart.

CHAPTER FOUR
    New Year’s Day at Tarn Fold. The perfect moment, Daniel Kind told himself, to turn his mind to murder.
    Yawning, he pulled open the living room curtains. He’d landed at Manchester Airport forty-eight hours earlier, and though he’d slept until midday and stood for the past five minutes under a hot and unforgiving shower, jet lag smothered his senses like chloroform.
    Wind roared down from the fells and smashed against the windows. Spiky trees swayed like worshippers performing a sinister ritual. The sky was sulky, and a damp mist loitered over the cottage’s strange grounds, with their twisting paths, enigmatic planting, and unexpected dead ends. Beyond a reed-fringed tarn, the rocky face of Tarn Fell was dour and cheerless. He ought to brave the gusts and go for a walk to pump some air into his lungs. But Louise had said she’d call round, the perfect excuse to make himself a cup of coffee instead. The kick of caffeine might do for him what sleep