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‘vert.’”
    Meinwen could think of several, particularly in view of the leather mask on the Dominus website. “I’m nor sure I follow...”
    “Oh, you know. It means life and soul of the party.”
    “Extrovert?”
    “Yes. That’s it. Sometimes people like that are quite shy at home, aren’t they?”
    “You may be right.” Meinwen sighed. “So...did you know who his solicitor was?”
    “No. Sorry. Again, Mr. Wilkins would know. He handled the mortgage and endowment policies for him.”
    “I see.” Meinwen frowned. “Wait. Mortgage? I didn’t know there was a mortgage on the house. Mam left it to all of us.”
    “Oh, not the house in Ashgate Road. He bought another one in Chervil Court. I don’t think he even used the Ashgate one much any more. He was going to tart it up to sell, I think.”
    “Chervil Court?
    “That’s right. One of the maisonettes. I think he rents out the other flats.”
    “I didn’t know that at all. What number?”
    “Give me a moment. I’ll look it up. It was one that came up for sale with us. John went to value it and fell in love with it. He bought it on the spot.”
    “Was that ethical?”
    “Oh yes. The vendor got it independently valued so he knew he wasn’t being fiddled. They split the cost of the land searches and agency fee and of course John got money off for pushing the sale through so quickly.”
    “Lucky him. Right. Thanks for your help, Jennie. I’ll wait for the call from your Mr. Wilkins and see if the police found any keys.”
    “Okay. Do you still want the number of his house in Chervil Court?”
    “Yes, please.” Meinwen waited while Jennie put the phone down and left her desk. She was only gone a minute.
    “Here you go. It’s number eight, flat five. Will you let us know when the funeral is? I think we’d all like to attend. Your brother really was a lovely man.”
    “I will, love. Thanks for your help.” Meinwen rang off before Jennie could prolong the conversation further. She certainly had food for thought now. Another residence in Chervil Court? That was the student area north of the cemetery. Bedsit land, by all accounts. It stood to reason a gay man would be more readily accepted against a backdrop of students than with the twin set-and-pearls brigade of Ashgate Road.
    She logged on to her messenger service to see who was online. She didn’t often talk to people she didn’t know but it was a useful way to have eyes and ears in a number of different spots in town. Few of the names of her list lit up so she left an offline message for her friend Cacoethes, otherwise known as the romance writer Jennifer Brande who used to run the whole town from her study desk until she joined the household at the Larches.
    Scribe: Jennifer? I need your specialist knowledge for a case!
    She logged off again, wondering who she knew in the Chervil Court area she could ask about John. She’d have liked to go to see the house there but it was pointless without a key. She looked at the clock. Two forty-five. Time to meet Jimmy at Ashgate Road. She powered down her laptop and stood.
    Just her and Jimmy Fenstone in an empty house. Meinwen clenched her pelvic floor muscles as a familiar wetness spread through her vagina.
     

 
    Chapter 6
     
    Meinwen stepped out of her house and struggled with her umbrella until it opened. It was still spitting with rain but not as badly as the earlier downpour. She locked the door and headed to Jimmy Fenstone’s house in Ashgate Road, dancing past puddles on the unkempt pavement.
    It took half an hour to get to the house. Huddled beneath her nylon rainbow, her huge carpetbag slung over her arm, she felt far older than her years. She detoured past the shop, where she’d had the foresight to leave a sign on the door with the apology Closed for Autumn Equinox, though that hadn’t stopped the postman leaving a stack of damp mail wedged in the letterbox. She went in and moved them to the little office at the back of the shop,