information we need.'
Singh frowned. 'I don't understand.'
'Four years ago you sold your petrol station in Pinner Green. We want to know why, and we want to know who to.'
The antique dealer's shoulders slumped, and any pretence at good humour disappeared. 'My lawyers handled the sale. It was to a development company. I wanted to get out of the trade. Buy an antiques shop. The timing was right. Now I am sorry, but I really have to close.'
'It wasn't good timing for my wife, Mr Singh.'
Sanjeev Singh looked at Delaney again, recognition dawning in his eyes. He gestured with his hands again, hands that were suddenly trembling even more than was usual.
'Look, I am sorry about what happened to your wife. The next day someone made me an offer for the place and I accepted it.'
'Why?'
'Why do you think? I don't know who was behind it but their methods were pretty clear.'
'Somebody wanted you out?'
'I'd had an offer before but I turned it down. I thought that if they were desperate for my property they could pay top dollar. But that same week the florists next door had an accidental fire. Their dog, a Labrador, died in the fire. They sold. And after what happened to me, I sold too.'
'Who to?'
The man shrugged again, apologetically. 'I don't know. It was all done through a lawyer.'
'Okay.' Delaney gestured to Kate. 'Come on, let's get your things.'
Kate held up her hand. 'One minute.' She turned to the trembling Indian. 'One more thing.'
Sanjeev clasped his hands together. 'Please, I have told you everything I know.'
'What's your best price on the sugar sifter?'
A smile almost came back on his face. 'You have a remarkable eye, madam. This here is—'
'Yes, I know,' Kate said, interrupting. 'It's Clarice Cliff. What will you take for it?'
Some minutes after they had left, Sanjeev Singh finally brought his shaking hands under enough control to pick up a telephone.
Kate pulled her car to the side of the road with a practised spin of the wheel. She snapped her seat belt open and turned to Delaney. 'I won't be long.'
'I'm coming with you, Kate.'
She turned the key to open the front door of her house and the first thing that struck her was the cold, the wind was blowing from the inside out. The second thing was the carnage.
Every room in the maisonette had been turned upside down. In the lounge bookcases had been toppled to the floor, sofas and chairs upended, CDs and records strewn as though a hurricane had blown through the place. Her bedroom was equally ravaged, and in the kitchen, plates and crockery had been smashed, the table legs snapped off, food scattered everywhere. Kate was too numb to cry out. She looked at Delaney, fury bubbling through her. She slammed the open back door shut. 'We have to get him, Jack. We have to stop him.'
She began to shake, willing herself to stop but unable to get her twitching muscles to comply.
Delaney took two quick steps to her side and enveloped her in a hug. 'It's going to be all right, Kate. I swear it.'
And Kate, feeling the strength in his arms, feeling the passion in his voice, believed him. For the first time in years she felt protected. She loved him, she
