And Justice There Is None by Deborah Crombie Page A

I’ve arranged the house-moving for Saturday, not that either of us has much to move.”
    “Saturday?” She heard the squeak of panic in her own voice.
    “It’ll be all right, love, I promise. The sooner the better.”
    Looking up from the jam-and-cream-cheese puddle he’d made on his plate, Toby asked, “What new house?”
    Kincaid glanced at Gemma, eyebrows raised, and she gave him a nod of assent. “We’re all going to move into a new house together, sport,” he explained to the boy. “You, your mum, Kit and me. What do you think about that?”
    Toby considered this for a moment. “Will Kit get to bring his dog?”
    “Of course Tess can come. The house has a big garden, with a swing.”
    “And Sid?” Sid was the black cat Kincaid had inherited from a friend who had died. “Can he go out in the garden?”
    “Sid will love the garden. He might even be able to catch a mouse.”
    Toby’s small brow creased in a frown. “What about Holly? Can she come live with us, too?”
    “No,” Gemma answered quickly. “Holly has to stay with her mummy and daddy. But she’ll come to visit often.”
    “Can I take my trucks?”
    “We’ll make a special place for them. Do you want to pack them now?”
    “Okay,” her son said with great equanimity. Leaving his bagel half finished, he scrambled down from his chair and disappeared into the tiny box room that served as his bedroom. When Gemma peeked in on him a few minutes later, she found him methodically stowing his collection of miniature lorries into his
Star Wars
backpack.
    “What about Kit?” she asked Kincaid as she returned to the table and refilled her mug. “Have you arranged things with him?”
    “Ian will drive him up from Grantchester on Saturday.”
    “And you’re sure Ian won’t change his mind?”
    “As sure as one can ever be with Ian McClellan. But he seems to have pretty well burned his bridges this time. He told me he’d already booked his flight to Canada, and that the university has arranged a small apartment for him.”
    “As in ‘bachelor pad’?”
    “So I suspect. Gemma …” Kincaid scrubbed at his fingers with his napkin, avoiding her eyes. “There’s been a development, with your investigation.”
    “Dawn Arrowood?” she asked, puzzled.
    “In a way, yes. Do you remember the case I was working on a couple of months ago, before we went to Glastonbury? An antiques dealer named Marianne Hoffman was found dead outside her shop in Camden Passage. Her throat had been cut, and she had been stabbed in the chest. When I saw Dawn Arrowood’s body—”
    “Why didn’t you say anything?”
    “I wanted to check the details in the files, make sure that I wasn’t just manufacturing coincidence.”
    “But—you’re talking serial killer!”
    “I think it’s too early to use the term, but I also think the similarities can’t be ignored. Especially considering the choice of weapon. And there’s something else—it seems to me that the second murder was executed more expertly.”
    “As if the killer’s skill is improving with practice?” Gemma shook her head. “I don’t buy it, coincidence or not. I think that whoever murdered Dawn had a very personal connection with her.”
    “Then maybe we should be looking for a connection between Dawn Arrowood and Marianne Hoffman.”
    “We?”
    Kincaid seemed to hesitate. “I’ll be working with you and your team.”
    “Officially?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’ve cleared this with Chief Superintendent Childs? Without discussing it with me first?”
    “I’d not have consulted any other officer in charge of the Arrowood case. Did you want to be treated differently?”
    Gemma glared at him, furious. “You’re twisting it! You could have at least let me know what you were doing. Is that why you didn’t come by last night?”
    “No. But you’re right, of course. I should have told you before I spoke to the guv’nor. I suppose I was afraid you might not want me messing about on your