Chapter Eleven

As they left Lincolnshire, en route to Oxford, with Ashok taking the first stint of driving, Robin had tried to line up his thoughts. Were they any further forward with the case? In terms of understanding the victim and some of his relationships, yes. In being any closer to knowing who killed him? There was the rub.

"You're quiet, sir," Ashok said.

"Mulling stuff over. When I was talking to Adam earlier, I told him we're going down the line I like—you're most at risk from family or friends—but I still don't think we have a motive for any of the family wanting to kill Mark. Or an obvious person to put in the frame. Not Kevin, who seems too bone idle to murder anybody, nor Tom, who seems too nice. Before you remind me, I know looks can be deceptive and killers can be cunning beasts."

"I wouldn't dare remind you of that, sir." Ashok chuckled. "Harold Shipman was a well-respected GP, wasn't he?"

"Yep. Many of his patients thought the world of him. The ones he hadn't murdered, of course, and maybe they'd still have liked him up until that final moment. Trusted him implicitly, as well." Didn't the revered and popular teacher or vicar or whoever often turn out to be not only an abuser but someone who'd groomed people to think they were wonderful?

"I'd agree that Kevin doesn't appear to have any reason to kill his brother, though," Ashok said. "As for the McKay side, what about preserving Moira's reputation? For all we know, she's been a pillar of the church and community and all of a sudden her chequered past has come back to haunt her."

"Maybe. Although it sounds like Moira's so far gone that she'd not be any the wiser whether she was being gossiped about, and Tom doesn't appear fussed about acknowledging this side of the family. Whose reputation would he be guarding? It might be different if Tom was illegitimate himself and say belonged to some strict sect where he'd get kicked out for the sins of his fathers. Same for Alex. It doesn't seem like that applies."

"Alex who drives a camper van. Didn't somebody say they'd seen one of those parked at the woods?"

"I think you're right. Pru's Mr. Rashid maybe or the Forestry Commission bloke. There's a lot of them about, camper vans, so let's not get ahead of ourselves. Easy to get our hopes up in a case like this where you find yourself grasping at anything. I'll make a call to base and get some balls rolling, though. Including following up on who inherits whatever Mark's left." That had been Pru's baby, and she'd be the best person to talk to anyway, because she could divvy up what jobs needed doing.

It hadn't taken long for the sergeant to eliminate Mark's worldly goods as a motive for murder, unless Kevin had been motivated to do the deed to get five grand. All the rest of the money—which was unlikely to be a lot once the mortgage was settled—was divided between the Matt Hampson Foundation and My Name'5 Doddie, both of them charities with a strong rugby connection.

"So apparently that's the ‘killed for the legacy' option out," Robin said, after he'd filled Ashok in on what he'd learned. "I never really expected it to apply."

"No." Ashok performed a tricky overtake of three lorries which were tailgating before resuming. "No cancer charities, though. I'd have expected them, given what happened to his wife."

Robin shrugged. "Maybe that would have been a bit too painful?"

"Maybe. Anyway, that six-month baby thing Tom mentioned. Am I being thick? I didn't think babies that small could survive back in those days."

"They probably couldn't. But an awful lot of children were born fit and healthy and about six months after their parents' wedding."

His constable's expression turned from bewilderment to exasperation with himself. "Doh. Shotgun wedding. I was being thick."

"You're forgiven. I think it's always been pretty common, whether the bride and groom were forced or went willingly to the altar, even in what were supposed to be respectable families. Get married quick enough when you get the news that a baby's on its way and when that baby comes, hope that people don't count back. Or if they do, they're too polite to mention it in the new parents' hearing. But that doesn't apply to Mark's mother. His gran was the one whose imminent arrival prompted the wedding."

All these generations and connections. Would it be as complex as this when they got to the bottom of Robin's family history? The story of Moira wanting nothing to do with her child, so not taking the option of her mother caring for the baby, stuck in Robin's craw. Had his father been similarly abandoned or did his biological grandmother have no choice but to give the baby up because her family couldn't have their reputation sullied? That scenario would be a damn sight easier to swallow. They carried on the journey discussing uncontroversial topics like sport, Robin determined to drag his thoughts away from matters Bright.

By the time they'd completed their stop for what Ashok called output and input, Robin felt better and not only for using the gents'. Adam's phone call and the news it contained had come at precisely the right moment.

"I'll take the next driving stint," he told Ashok as the bloke emerged from the shop with a bottle of fizzy drink. "Alex Hanley is said to have a conviction for an assault in Skegness, and I want you to check up on it. See if there's anything else lurking in his record."

"Will do, sir," Ashok said. "I once went to Skegness, and I can't say I was that impressed with it. Mind you, I was on a stag do, so most of what I can remember is around playing endless crazy golf and drinking lots of beer. They had plenty of pubs and miniature courses. Maybe Alex was on a stag as well, in which case there'd be no surprise he got into a fight."

None of that sounded a great advert for any seaside resort. Stag and hen do's were becoming a blight on many holiday towns, profitable as they might be for local hotels and clubs. "You could be right. If you can get the team back at base to check the details while we're on the road—matter of urgency—we'll be better placed for tackling Alex. It'll be interesting to see if anything else crawls out of the woodwork."

Unfortunately, it didn't. Apart from the assault, Alex and Lucy Hanley didn't have as much as a speeding ticket on record. The incident at Skegness had happened two years previously, just before Covid changed everyone's plans, so was hardly a youthful indiscretion on Alex's part. Although a stag do was involved: his son's. The younger Hanley had been left highly embarrassed by his father's antics, according to various stories which Ashok had found on the local news sites. He'd dragged his father from the victim and acted as peacekeeper. The guy who'd been on the end of Alex's fists had apparently made the sort of off-the-cuff offensive remark about the man's mother that anyone could make, especially if they were drunk. No indication that he was aware his insult would have a personal significance. Interesting that the son hadn't stuck up for his dad, which was what usually happened in these types of incidents, irrespective of who was in the wrong.

"All sounds a bit like what happened to Mark," Ashok said, after he'd read aloud the key parts of the news story. "An argument ends in violence, although in Mark's case there's nobody there to pull the assailant away. He could have said something about Alex's mother that he took as an insult or a threat."

Robin nodded. This gave them a potential name in the frame and a possible motive to boot. A thin motive, admittedly, but the best they'd got so far.

They'd arranged to meet Alex and Lucy Hanley at three o'clock in a park and ride facility near Oxford, a couple of hundred metres off the A34. Ashok had joked on the way about being relieved they wouldn't be going into the city itself, given the high crime rate as shown on the telly or in books. As Robin himself often pointed out, if you believed everything you saw on the box, then you not only wouldn't want to live in Oxford, you'd avoid any leafy village in the heart of England. You'd also think the police relied entirely on forensics, that they still played "good cop, bad cop", that they could draw on unlimited budgets and employed the most bizarre disciplinary procedure of any large organisation.

When they'd arrived at the destination and parked up, Robin and Ashok made their way to the main bus stop, where they'd arranged to meet up. A couple in their fifties were standing there already, and they'd let the bus go without getting on it, so Robin approached them, fingers crossed. "Mr. and Mrs. Hanley?"

"Yes. You must be Chief Inspector Bright."

Introductions all round were followed by the Hanleys suggesting they all make their way to the hotel which was located on the edge of the site. They thought there was bound to be somewhere to sit in the entrance area, where the four of them could not only talk without being overheard but could also get a pot of tea to wet their whistles.

"We've stopped here before," Alex said, as they walked across the car park, "when we were up to our armpits in snow. Thought we'd be marooned for days." The bloke seemed pretty relaxed at meeting them, but he'd had time to get his game face on. And it wasn't like he hadn't had practice in dealing with the police.

"Do you travel this way often?" Robin asked.

"Not particularly, but that journey stuck in our minds," Lucy said, in a deep, throaty voice, the kind which would be perfect for voice-overs. "As you can imagine."

She would stick in anyone's mind too. If you didn't remember her voice or charming smile, you surely couldn't forget her purple hair, which was like a blue rinse on steroids.

A discussion of trips taken in bad weather and the advisability of making sure you had food, water, and blankets in the boot, carried them through to being settled in the hotel with their refreshments ordered.

"Thanks for seeing us. Ashok's going to make some notes, although this isn't a formal interview. Yet," Robin added, to let them know he meant business. "We're investigating the death of Mark Bircher, who was, we believe, the grandson of your mother Moira."

"So you said when you rang," Alex replied, with a hint of asperity.

"I did." Robin ignored the jibe. "Were you aware of Mark's existence?"

Alex shared a glance with his wife. "Partly. We knew a little about his mother. As you may or may not know, my mother is in the advanced stages of dementia. What she says doesn't always make sense, so when she started talking about having given birth to a baby at the end of the war, we thought at first that she was raving."

"When was this?" Robin asked. "I mean, when did she tell you?"

"Not long after Christmas, two years ago," Lucy cut in. "A bit before that first lockdown and a couple of months after we began noticing she was going downhill, memory-wise. She'd had a bout of flu, and at the point she was really poorly with it, she started rambling. It may sound daft, but I was quite convinced she'd got caught up in all the stories about baby Jesus and somehow thought she was Mary. It was only when we mentioned it to Uncle Tom—and that was really in the way of a joke, you know, ‘You'll never guess what she's been saying when she had her fever!'—that we learned she'd been telling the truth. Quite a shock for Alex to discover he had relatives he never knew existed."

Two years previously—early 2020—would have been around the time of the assault case, which could explain why Alex had been so touchy in Skegness.

"Nobody had ever hinted at your family having a secret? Not even Isabel?" Ashok asked.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Have you met her?"

"Not met, although Tom mentioned her as being a source of information." That was probably Ashok finding a nice way of saying Isabel was a gossip. "We didn't know she was still alive."

"She's clinging on. Physically frail although sharp as a pin, which is the opposite of how Mum is." Alex sighed. "I'd call Isabel a source of tittle-tattle rather than information. Anyway, Tom told us that he knew nothing about my half sister apart from the blunt fact of when Mum had given birth to her. He doesn't know where she was born or what happened to her afterwards, as Mum had decided not to have any connection with the child."

"I know things were very different back then, but that does seem a bit harsh," Ashok said. "To cut yourself off so entirely."

Lucy shook her head. "It may seem harsh to our eyes, but I think it was a case of self-preservation. Not having to grieve for what you've lost or worry about what's happening to your child as she grows up, like fretting over whether the adoptive family were treating her well. What you don't know can't hurt you, can it? I can tell you how much we still fret about our son, and he's grown up."

"Did you wish Tom had told you years ago what little he knew?" Robin asked.

Alex shrugged. "He did what he thought was right by his own flesh and blood. Any of us would, so I don't hold it against him that he kept the secret—her secret—for so long."

"Do you hold it against your mother?"

A flicker of pain registered in Alex's eyes. "If I said no, I'd be a liar. It would have been nice to know the truth earlier, when I could have asked her the full story and got an answer I could rely on as being accurate. But I've tried to understand why she kept shtum."

"What Alex means is that hers was a different generation," Lucy chipped in, although that wasn't quite what her husband had said. "Morality had to be seen to be observed, though what went on then wasn't a lot different to nowadays. Sex wasn't invented in the 1960s, was it?"

Robin, amused at the brief expression of embarrassment on Ashok's face, noted how it was Lucy who kept producing the defence of her mother-in-law. Something about this story was making Alex profoundly uncomfortable, and Robin wasn't sure it was the obvious "My mother never told me I had a half sister." How did that discomfort link with Alex's reaction to what the other bloke had said at Skegness? It would also be interesting to know if he'd assumed Robin didn't know about his criminal record because the police would have had no reason as yet to look into it?

Robin risked a personal remark about McKay family history, to gauge the reaction. "Extra marital sex was alive and well around 1930, Tom tells us. I believe your grandmother was pregnant with Moira when she married your grandfather."

"What do you mean by that?" The reaction had been generated: Alex was only being kept in his seat by his wife's restraining hand on his arm.

"That's surely not relevant to Mark's death, Chief Inspector." Lucy kept her voice impressively calming.

"Only in that it might have mattered a lot to our victim," Robin said. "I'm trying to build up a picture of him and his absolute determination to get to the truth and part of that process is to get my head around what happened back in 1948 when his mother was born. If Moira herself had been conceived out of wedlock, then I struggle to believe her family would have forced her to get rid of her child. Was it entirely her decision?"

Lucy answered for both of them. "We believe so."

Robin, determined to get Alex talking again, asked him, "Would you have liked to have had the opportunity of meeting your half sister Eleanor?"

The reply came, although Alex kept his gaze fixed on his shoes. "I don't know. I'd obviously have liked the chance to make an informed choice, though, rather than discovering when she was already dead and it was too late."

"What about meeting your nephew, Mark? Had you made an informed choice about that?"

The question evidently stung Alex, given his wince. Was it guilt or the fact that any reference to his mother, however oblique, got under his skin? "I'd have thought it's obvious the same applies in his case. Too late now to have the chance."

"You may not have known for certain that Mark existed, but you could have made an educated guess that Eleanor would have produced a family, so you've had two years to find out whether that was so, the way Mark found out about his family. And," Robin pointed out, "he was obviously still alive when he got in contact with Tom. You could have arranged to meet him then, especially if you were going to be travelling down his way."

"What are you implying?" Alex, hands tightly clamped together, was clearly fighting another bout of anger.

"Simply that he'd still have been alive before you set off on your road trip. If you'd been off doing the royal family trail, it would have been easy enough to find a couple of hours to nip over to Lindenshaw." Or indeed Kings Ride Woods.

Lucy forestalled any answer her husband might have given with another grip of his arm. "You're quite right that we could, although we didn't do that. We were waiting to see what transpired with Uncle Tom and whether they organised a DNA test between them. After that we could have been certain because, for all we knew, the whole thing might have been a mistake and Mark wasn't actually Moira's grandson."

It was a reasonable point, although something about the statement didn't ring true. Maybe it was worth drilling down now. "There was a camper van seen in the Kings Ride Woods car park on Saturday, around the time Mark was murdered. Was it yours?"

The Hanleys shared a glance before both saying, "No."

"On Saturday we went to see Timsworth Abbey," Lucy stated. "I'm afraid we can't prove that because we didn't keep the parking ticket and we paid cash so there's no card receipt to show you. They might have caught us on CCTV, but I don't remember seeing any cameras. And it wasn't one of those car parks with a barrier, so there won't be a record of our registration."

That all seemed to have come out too pat and with a suggestion of pre-preparation. An apparently solid alibi although with nothing concrete to support it. Perhaps there was an innocent explanation: the couple must have known they'd be asked for their whereabouts that day so could have prepared the answer in order not to seem suspicious because they were flustered.

"You don't have a receipt for the abbey? I'm sure you have to pay for entry." Robin admittedly might have been getting confused with the cathedral, where you definitely had to get past a ticket booth, although the question would keep the pressure up and show he felt he was being strung along.

"No. At the abbey they ask for a suggested donation, rather than having a ticketing system, which is something I really can't stand. We didn't pay anything, on a point of principle," Alex said, chest swelling pompously. "It's scandalous that churches charge anything at all for entry, voluntary or not, so we said we were there for prayer and got in free."

If any prayer actually took place. Admittedly, he couldn't judge anybody's spirituality on appearances or a relatively brief conversation, but this pair didn't strike Robin as the sort who'd be spending time in contemplation. Perhaps he was doing them a disservice: maybe his rozzer's nose was starting to let him down because it continually expected to be lied to. Only time would tell.

"You couldn't have contacted Eleanor and maybe you didn't meet up with Mark but what about Kevin?" Ashok asked. "Have you made your mind up whether you want to get to know him?"

"Kevin?" Alex's face was an exaggerated blank. Robin was pretty certain he'd been about to play ignorant about the brother when Lucy chipped in again.

"The brother? The same applies as with Mark. Once we know for certain that he's Moira's grandson, that'll be the time for making plans. Perhaps he'd like to come and visit our local area, the air bases and the like."

If he can be bothered to get out of his chair. Although Robin noted Lucy had talked about Kevin visiting the area rather than specifically visiting his relatives. Time to mention Skegness. "Mr. Hanley, we've obviously checked your police record, as a matter of routine, and you have a conviction for assault."

"I'm not denying it." Alex's body language—arms crossed, shoulders hunched—suggested he'd have liked to try.

"And you'd also agree that the fight you got into was prompted by the other man having made a remark about your family?"

"Yes. How would you like it if some stranger called your mother a whore?"

"I wouldn't have appreciated it at all." Robin had experienced a lot worse insults hurled at him and had become almost immune, so it was sometimes difficult to imagine another person's reactions. Given the circumstances, he could understand how Alex had been touchy. "I wouldn't have belted the bloke, though."

Alex didn't respond, arms still tightly crossed, maybe afraid that he'd be tempted to lash out again or say something he'd regret.

"If this guy you hit was a total stranger, why did you take things so personally?" Ashok asked. "Your son called it a throwaway comment, so I guess it wasn't dissimilar to the abuse that gets hurled at football referees every weekend."

It was a good point. The police weren't alone in being the target of insults, because rightly or wrongly, people threw around abuse on social media or in person without any regard for other people's feelings. Not all of them ended up being physically attacked, though. Why had the "whore" remark cut so close to home for Alex if he didn't know much about his mother's history? If Moira had been selling her favours—with Eleanor being a result of that—he couldn't have been aware of the fact.

Lucy, inevitably, answered for her husband. "Blame the whole incident on too much beer and a natural desire to stick up for your family. I'd have thought you would understand, because you must see these kind of fights all the time."

"We don't see everybody sticking up for their family by lashing out with their fists," Ashok pointed out. "Even your son was embarrassed by the episode."

"Alfie, our son, didn't know the full story behind why I did it. He still doesn't." At last Alex unlocked his arms. "All right, I'll come clean. I found out about my half sister's existence—although not her name or other details—literally a fortnight before Alfie's stag do. And Mum didn't bother to tell me, first off. Lucy went round to take her a cake, and the whole story came out, like she said earlier." It no doubt still hurt that Moira hadn't told her son first. "I confronted Mum the next day over the phone, but she denied everything, even that she'd told Lucy about a child. I made the mistake of pressing her and she became very distressed. I said we'd discuss it face-to-face after the Skegness weekend although we never got the chance. When I went round to see her that week, I have to say I was dreading it. Not only to do with this adopted-child business but in case she'd discovered anything about the scuffle I'd got into on the stag do. Anyway, in the end none of that applied because I couldn't get a reply when I rang her bell. I do have a spare key, although I don't like to let myself in uninvited, as that feels rude. I wish now I'd done that first off, because you never know if that minute I spent dithering on the doorstep could have made a difference. She'd been taken ill, you see."

"I know this can't be easy, but please go on." Robin nodded sympathetically. "The more complete a picture we can build up, the better."

"Well, I let myself in and that's when I found her, in the lounge. I reckoned she'd had a bad fall and it looked like she'd suffered a stroke on top of that, although we never found out whether the stroke caused the fall or the other way round. That was the start of her going downhill in terms of her mental health. I'd never realised the deterioration could happen so rapidly." Alex sounded like a different person now, his voice quieter and lacking the earlier aggressive note.

Robin glanced at Lucy, who was hanging on her husband's every word, clearly concerned. At the fact he was upset or in case he deviated off some script? How likely was it they'd come prepared for questions about Moira's fall?

Alex continued. "I keep thinking about that day. All the things I wanted to know and then couldn't, because the chance had gone in those few minutes. Since her stroke, even when she's had her lucid moments, she's continued refusing to discuss anything else about the matter and Tom, while he's been keen to help, doesn't know much, either."

Lucy seemed to know about the potential family connection to air bases, though, given what she'd said about Kevin visiting the area. Had that been a reference to Tom and Moira's father, meaning their great-grandson would possibly be interested in seeing where the man had worked, or was there something else? "You mentioned air bases, earlier," Robin said. "Did Moira's lover work at one of them?"

"We think so," Lucy said, then immediately put her hand to her mouth, too late.

Robin smiled. "How would you know that unless Moira told you?"

"We might as well tell them, Lucy," Alex said, with an air of resignation. "We heard from Isabel, of course. She of the big mouth and bigger ears. Ears that picked up every bit of gossip she could."

"In her defence, she has kept your mother's secret pretty well intact outside of the family, which isn't her usual track record." Lucy pulled a disapproving face. "Some of the tittle-tattle she's spread locally doesn't bear thinking about, but she never spoke to Alex concerning Eleanor until Moira had already broached the subject, and I don't think she's discussed it with anyone else apart from Tom. She used to be Moira's best friend when they were younger, and they've kept that up all through their lives. She's Alex's godmother."

"How much did she tell you?" Robin asked. "And when?"

"When? After Mum had her stroke. I think that was the point when Isabel decided it couldn't do much harm for me to know some of the story."

"Which was...?" Robin prompted.

"Not very much, as it happened." Alex shrugged. "When Mum got pregnant, she obviously confided in Isabel, who's always been her closest friend. She never told her who the father of the child was, though, just that he'd been a mistake she'd been stupid to make. Married man, although Mum didn't know that until it was too late, apparently. Explains why there was no shotgun wedding and, I suppose, may have influenced the adoption decision."

"If Isabel wasn't told who Eleanor's father was, how did she know about air bases?" Ashok asked.

"She guessed from a couple of hints Mum dropped that he was associated with one of the local air bases, maybe someone Mum met when she was waitressing at the hotel because they had a lot of the remaining air crew dropping in there. I knew all about her hospitality work and her life on the cruise ships, which is where she met my dad. I never realised there was a gap in the narrative." Which patently still rankled with him. "The rest of what Isabel said surrounded the official story my grandparents put out. They told folk a great opportunity had come up for Moira to go and work in London, although she never actually travelled far from home. My grandmother wouldn't have let her go all that way to give birth, for one thing. The family wanted her near at hand at such a difficult time. At least, according to Isabel."

"She may be a gob mouth, but she does tend to tell the truth," Lucy said. "Which probably makes it worse, because you can't discount what she says."

Robin suppressed a smile. Yes, he could imagine what a loose cannon Isabel would have been, if it was known she was a reliable source of gossip. "Did Isabel say where Moira gave birth? I know it may not seem pertinent to Mark's death, but if he was due to visit someone in the area, it might form an important link in the chain of events."

Both Alex and Lucy shook their heads, this time without any obvious consultation between them.

"That I don't know," Alex said. "Somewhere local, because of my grandmother not wanting Mum to go into confinement unless she had someone close to hand. Maybe holding her hand, for all I know. As you can guess, she didn't speak about it, either. I grew up quite oblivious." He sighed. "I've gone through all my mother's documentation—I need to, because I have power of attorney for her and I've had to fish stuff out—and there's nothing related to Eleanor there. Or any indication of a place that could be significant."

"Eleanor's birth certificate says she was registered in Peterborough by her adoptive parents," Ashok said. "That doesn't mean anything to you?"

Alex evidently didn't feel any need to consult his wife on this, either. "It's not far away from the area we're talking about, although Mum's never mentioned it. I don't think she's ever been there, but that could be another secret."

"Okay. Swinging round to Mark again; you've told us that you didn't meet up with your nephew." Robin put a slight emphasis on the word told. "So that I can cross all the t's about interaction between the McKay family and him, has your son Alfie been in touch with him?"

"As I said, Alfie doesn't know everything, including the fact Mark exists," Alex stated. "Existed."

That lack of knowledge could go towards explaining why he'd not stuck up for his father in Skegness.

"What about other cousins? Do you have any full siblings?"

Lucy gave the reply. "Alex is an only child. Moira had a really rough time giving birth to him, so she didn't want to go through the process again."

Alex narrowed his eyes. "I don't think the police need to know every detail of my mother's affairs, Lucy. Irrespective of what the chief inspector has been saying about getting a full picture, I'm sure what happened in the delivery room when I was born can't be relevant to their investigations."

"You'd be amazed what turns out to be relevant, although in this case, I think we don't need the obstetric details." Robin noted that Lucy's remark had elicited a strong response from her husband, confirming the impression that matters concerning his mother still galled him. "One last question, then, to make sure that I'm totally clear. Have you had any form of contact with either Mark or his brother? Even if that's a text or an email which you deleted without reading or replying."

"No," Lucy said, looking Robin squarely in the eye.

"Mr. Hanley?"

"No." Alex's answer didn't seem as assured. Maybe his wife didn't know what he'd been up to or perhaps she was the better liar.

"Thank you," Robin said. "I think, given the circumstances, we need you both to provide us with a formal statement. In complicated cases like this one, we need to cover all our bases, especially when the victim was due to visit your home area last weekend."

"Which means he couldn't have been meeting us," Lucy pointed out smugly. "We were still on our travels."

"Not unless you changed your plans," Ashok replied, with an equally smug smile.

Robin ignored both comments. "I'm happy to take statements here or you can report to your local station as soon as you're home. Unless that's going to be weeks away."

"We're heading homewards today. Nose back to the grindstone on Monday." Alex rolled his eyes at the prospect. "I'd rather hit the road now, if we can, while the traffic isn't too bad."

That suited Robin, as well. "Then maybe you can get it done tomorrow. The sooner that chore's completed, the sooner we can get down to eliminating you from our enquiries. If you give us your full contact details, we'll get in touch with your local station and make sure they're ready to do the necessary."

The Hanleys, with evident relief at the prospect of an imminent departure, gave Ashok all the contact details he needed.

As they watched the Hanleys walk back to their camper van at a spritely pace, as though the pair couldn't wait to shake the dust of the park and ride from their feet, the constable scratched his head. "What was all that about? The details about the visit to Timsworth aside, something's going on that they didn't quite get their stories settled about in advance, although I can't work out what."

"I'd agree. It'll be interesting to see how far their official statements vary from what they told us. Always different when you have to put your name to an account. That was good timing with the Kevin question, by the way. I could have sworn Alex was going to deny all knowledge of him before Lucy leaped in. I'd like to get that bloke on his own for a chat, but without any proper evidence of their involvement in the crime, we're going to have to tread warily."

"His assault conviction and them having been in roughly the right area isn't enough?"

"I'd need more. I don't want to be accused of harassment." Although they'd seen for themselves that Hanley was the type to lose his temper when he felt his family reputation had been threatened. "Get me some hard evidence and it'll be a different ball game."

Ashok nodded. "Evidence like them having been in touch with Mark or not having been in Timsworth at all? I'll ask Ben to check his phone records for their mobile and landline. Want me to find out about the car park CCTV too?"

"If there is any. I've not been to Timsworth in a while, but from what I remember, I doubt the car parks are those places where they record registration numbers, either. Although if the van was there, it's no proof both the occupants were. It wouldn't have been hard for one of them to drop the other off and head for the car park, to begin setting up their nice alibi. Oh, right." Robin wagged his finger. "That could fit in with Mark's car being nicked. It gets used to transport the culprit away from the scene to somewhere—in this case the Kinechester car park—where they can be picked up. Taking the Yaris to Timsworth and leaving it there would have made too much of an obvious connection." Although where the missing suitcase fitted into that scheme wasn't clear. Unless it contained something damning about Moira that needed to be destroyed. A criminal record for soliciting, or was that stretching theorising to breaking point?

"I like that idea about the Yaris, sir. If we can't fix the Hanleys' position via the car park, there's a chance someone at the abbey might remember them if they kicked up a stink about not paying."

"They might remember her hair too. I could be doing them a disservice, but I bet they don't see many tints quite that powerful."

"Want me to chase that too? Or get one of the team on it?"

They'd arrived at the car, but at the last minute, Robin swung himself round to the passenger side door. "Actually, I think I'll take that chore off your shoulders, if you'll do driving duty again now. At least get us down the road a way, because I need to make some calls, and not merely to warn the Lincolnshire police about the Hanleys turning up on their doorstep." Robin had quite a list of chores to get through, which he'd have to jot down before starting, or risk losing some in the process of juggling remembering with doing. "I'll get Danielle onto both the CCTV and the abbey stuff, as a matter of priority. If both Alex and Lucy have an unshakeable alibi, then there's no point in working the Bircher connection too hard, and the other aspect that I'd like you to get onto won't be so relevant."

"What bit's that, sir?" Ashok, settling into the driver's seat again, was clearly interested. Admittedly, anything would be preferable to ploughing through car park footage, although that short straw had to be drawn sometimes.

"I want you to get onto Skegness or whichever station in Lincolnshire dealt with the assault. Find out everything you can about the case from the investigating officers and say you don't simply want what's in the official statements. Hopefully you'll jog their memories, because anything they can tell you could be useful. Like what was said by the other bloke and whether Alex gave any indication why he was abnormally touchy about comments concerning his mother. Any impression they got that he might do the same thing again—or worse—to someone who threatened her reputation or managed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. While you're at it, see if you can find out anything about the fall and stroke that his mother had. The nursing home she's in may be able to help."

"I can get the name of it from Tom. He might know who her doctor was, as well." Ashok skilfully negotiated his way around a group of coach passengers, all of whom seemed determined to walk exactly where they wanted, irrespective of whether that was in front of moving vehicles.

"Good. The staff at the home might be able to tell you if there's any tension between mother and son. The next job needs careful handling, because I want to know if anyone—including Tom himself if you can ask him subtly—harboured any suspicions about Alex's version of what happened to his mother when he went round there and found she'd fallen. I got the impression he and his nephew don't hit it off that well, which might be a long-term thing, although if it's recent, I'd love to know when it dates back to."

Ashok didn't give a full reply until they were safely back on the dual carriageway. "You think Alex lied about what happened to his mother? The circumstances of the fall?"

"Possibly. He was obviously an angry man back then and he's still angry now, isn't he? The slightest adverse mention of his mother seems to get his hackles raised, even if Lucy makes it, and I can't help feeling he's got a lot of conflicting emotions going on about the situation he's found himself in. Feels like it's a mixture of annoyance at having secrets kept from him—ones that he only discovered because Isabel was too loose with her tongue—and annoyance because his mother wouldn't tell him anything further about his sibling. Plus a touch of shame at having a mother who bore a bastard child, because some people still feel that sort of thing strongly."

"He's certainly het up about something, and it wouldn't surprise me if you're right about all of those and maybe another factor we've not identified yet. Although I don't see what's it got to do with her having a stroke."

"Maybe nothing, but I've conjured up a mental image of Alex going round to his mother's house to confront her again about his half sibling in an effort to get to the truth. He's admitted he was worked up about the run in with the police and the worry that she'd find out about it. The story about knocking and having to wait for a reply didn't take place. Not on this visit, anyway. He's too wound up to wait, so lets himself in. Maybe that makes her cross and they soon get into an argument."

"And he's angry enough to give her a push that sends her flying?"

"Something like that. Then the fall itself or the shock it causes precipitates a stroke. I don't know if that's possible, so clarifying the medical stuff could be a job for you too. Or get one of the admin team onto it." Maybe the stroke hadn't been the immediate result of a fall, but it may have triggered a delayed response. How long had that visit to Moira been and had anyone noticed a discrepancy? "I'd love to know if they took an official statement from Alex at the time."

"I doubt it. If he'd called for an ambulance, they'd have taken her to hospital and unless somebody had cause to follow it up—like she said he'd knocked her over—then she'd probably be another old woman who took a tumble."

Sad but true. "If anything turns up that gives you cause for doubt about Alex's version of events, then feel free to dig a bit deeper. Unless we get a better lead on somebody else."

"Will do, sir." Ashok visibly glowed at the prospect of tackling the job. "That's worth driving all the way back to Abbotston for."

Robin hoped that wonderful buoyancy would carry them through both the journey home and the task ahead. It felt like they'd made a step forward, but would Sod's Law apply and that progress end up with them going two steps backwards?