He’d hardly spoken to her since, having left the house before she was up that morning, and she thought he was brooding over something; she could only be glad of the respite. She held her breath as she listened at the door of Bernie’s study. He had a visitor in there and one he didn’t want her to see, because he’d told her to go upstairs and stay there if she knew what was good for her. They’d left the door into the hall open a crack and Beth could hear what they were saying if she tried very hard. Not every word was distinguishable, but she could get the gist of most of it. ‘Who killed Norm that’s what I want to know,’ Bernie’s visitor demanded ‘It would have had to be a professional – someone who knew what they were doin’. He ain’t easy to fool…’ ‘The bloody police say he was drunk,’ Bernie answered. ‘He didn’t often drink that much – it wasn’t the way he got his kicks…’ ‘No, we all know what Norm liked,’ the other man muttered. ‘Did he get out of line?
