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be the same killer.”
    “I don’t know for sure. Have you heard about the Caroline Fox case?”
    “Only what I’ve seen in the papers. I mentioned it to the officer dealing with my wife’s murder, but he insisted the cases were not connected.”
    “He could be right.” There’s a first time for everything.
    “But you obviously don’t think so or you wouldn’t be calling me.”
    “I think it’s at least worth exploring the possibility that the murders are connected. That’s why I’ve been trying to contact you.”
    “I haven’t been taking calls—most of them have been from the press. The only calls I’ve answered are from numbers I recognise. Harry Lamb gave me your number earlier today.”
    “Would it be possible for me to come and see you?”
    “How about tomorrow morning?”
    Oh bum, I’d arranged to meet Aunt Lucy then. “I have a meeting in the morning. Could we make it early afternoon? Say one o’clock?”
    Mr Lyon confirmed that was okay, and gave me directions to the small hotel where he was staying.

Chapter 9
     
    “I’m going to strangle you!” Mrs V shouted.
    I heard her as soon as I walked into the building. It didn’t take a genius to know what was going on. I hurried up the stairs and pushed open the door to find Winky sitting on top of the stationery cupboard. He looked as cool as a cucumber as he stared down with his one eye at Mrs V. Her face was so red it looked as if she might explode at any moment.
    “I’m going to kill him.” She had a knitting needle in her hand and looked as though she meant business.
    I didn’t need to ask why she was so angry. The floor was covered in wool of every colour. The mail sack, which usually housed the yarn, had been upended. Judging by the devastation in front of me, I guessed that Winky must have done it some hours ago before Mrs V arrived. Since then, he’d been playing with the numerous balls of wool, which had unravelled and were now entangled with one another. It looked like an explosion in a woolly jumper factory. I was struggling to keep a straight face. If I laughed, Mrs V would probably turn the knitting needle on me.
    “Get him down, so I can kill him!” she yelled.
    I walked over to the stationery cupboard, grabbed Winky, and then threw him into my office and closed the door.
    “Let me at him!”
    I put my body between her and the door. Obviously, I had some kind of death wish. “I’ll help you to tidy up,” I offered.
    “Move out of the way! I’m going to kill him!”
    “He was only playing.”
    Mrs V glared at me for the longest moment, and then took a step back. “Why can’t you take him home with you, Jill? You know he hates me.”
    “I’m sure that isn’t true.” It was. “How about I buy you a linen basket with a catch on it? You can keep all your yarn in there and it’ll be safe from Winky.”
    “Can I at least give him a kick up the backside?”
    “No.”
    “Just a tap?”
    “No.”
     
    So much for catching up on my paperwork. We managed to unravel and rewind most of the wool by the time I had to leave for my meeting with Aunt Lucy. I made Mrs V promise that she wouldn’t throw Winky out of the window while I was out, and I promised to buy her a linen basket.
     
    I poked my head around the door of my office. Winky was lying on my desk looking completely unfazed by the morning’s events. I poured him a saucer of milk—full cream—and gave him some cat food.
    “Behave while I’m out,” I said as I turned to leave.
    “Okay.”
    I spun around.
    “Meow. Meow.”
    I really needed a holiday.
     
    I was ten minutes late arriving at the coffee shop. I’d arranged to meet Aunt Lucy outside, but there was no sign of her. I doubted she’d have left because she had been really keen for us to meet. As I stepped inside, I wasn’t even sure if I’d recognise her, but I needn’t have worried. Her outfit spanned the colour spectrum. Red shoes with pink tights. A green skirt with a bright yellow blouse.