Chapter Twelve

Adam expected his husband to be tired when he got home but was pleased to see it turn out to be tiredness tempered with a bit of optimism. He cracked open a couple of bottles of beer, got Robin settled on the settee with his drink and an adoring Hamish—who was acting as though his constabulary dad had been away for years, rather than overnight—then got on with heating up dinner.

"Are you in work tomorrow?" Adam asked, hovering in the lounge doorway with one ear on matters in the kitchen.

"I hope not. I've told all the team they need to get a break on the principle that we all could do with recharging our batteries. If anything notable turns up, we might have to reverse that strategy, but the Hanleys won't be making their official statements until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, and everything else is in a holding pattern while we wait to hear back from people or work through stuff." Robin grinned. "Boring police work, the kind they don't tell you about on the box because it would turn off the viewers in droves."

"Now you've met this Alex bloke, do you think there's a chance he's the killer?"

"He's done something. I'm sure of that." Robin scratched his head, earning a dirty look from the dog, who evidently thought that hand should be employed stroking him. "Daft baggage. Hamish, not you."

"Glad to hear it. If you want to talk it through tonight, that's cool—I've got a bit of stuff from Ryan I'd like to share which may or may not mean something. Happy to leave it for the morning, if that works better."

"Let's do that. No work talk tonight will let me clear my brain. You can tell me about Mum and Ryan, though. Did she doze off?"

"Actually, I was the one who kept zoning out, while she seemed to get on with him really well. Hold on. Cooking duties."

A cry of, "She probably reminds him of his aunt Josephine," followed Adam as he headed towards the kitchen.

Once he was back, with some snacks for himself and something more substantial on a tray for Robin, Adam said, "I guess all the family tree stuff on the Mark Bircher side helped give your mum an insight into how they might move forward on her mystery. She's going to engage Ryan's services on your dad's history and the inheritance front while he's going to help her pick her way through the cruise minefield. I don't have a lot to add apart from that." Adam paused. "No, that's a big lie. Something did come up of interest. Don't get over-excited, though, because it isn't anything you won't know."

"I'm still intrigued."

"It's about your dad being born with skin between two of his fingers." Adam indicated which two, which he then realised was stupid because Robin would know where the webbing had been, but it had been a long day and he wasn't thinking that clearly. "Ryan seemed to think that might be helpful corroboration for anything he turns up, given that the condition can be familial."

"Yep, Dad showed me his scar, and they warned me it could be inherited. Not that there's any risk of me passing it on down the line." Robin ruffled Hamish's ears to the dog's evident delight. "No webbed paws for your pups, sunshine."

"Are we breeding him, then?" Adam asked, which led into a conversation about how much Hamish's stud fees—or whatever they called them in the dog world—would be. Any discussion about any human offspring was superfluous because they'd already thrashed out the whole adopt, foster, have their own using a donor topic and decided it wasn't right for them. Not at the moment, anyway. They'd stick to the canine variety of dependant for the time being and revisit children further down the line, maybe when one or other of them was retired.

"Talking about things genetic," Robin said, when they'd exhausted the topic of the Newfoundland's DNA, "you said you'd tell me the bone-marrow story."

"Oh yes." Adam related, pretty well verbatim, what he and Mrs. Bright had discussed. "She's a canny woman, your mum."

"She is. I'd always wondered why Dad insisted I went on the bone-marrow register, like him, when I was old enough. It never occurred to me it was linked to his adoption rather than civic duty. I think that puts that worry to bed. Or at least gets it into the bedroom." Robin snorted. "What did Ryan think about you being my husband, by the way?"

"Totally nonplussed. In fact, I'd say he was delighted, so you're no doubt right about where his own preferences lie. He'd be a nice bloke if he'd shut up once in a while. Is he single?"

"I have no idea. Why?"

"I was wondering whether his constant chatter puts blokes off, because he's reasonably handsome."

Robin snorted. "You could be his agony uncle. Adam's advice on your love life. All treated in confidence."

"Don't. Your mum dropped a similar hint on the way back from the pub and I don't think she was joking. I told her it would risk Ryan thinking I fancied him, so that shut the idea down." Adam stretched limbs, which were getting wearier by the minute. "Perhaps we could get her to give him advice. They've clearly clicked, and I bet if she said, ‘Ryan do try and cut down what you say by seventy percent and then you'll find true love,' he might take it to heart."

"It would be generic advice, though, because I don't think she knows about Grindr or gay bars. Although nothing would surprise me about what her and Aunt Clare discuss." Robin, laden with dog, shifted himself into a comfier position. "As long as he doesn't expect us to fix him up with a partner. Not sure I know any available gay men at present, and we're both too busy to act as matchmaker."

The ensuing discussion about gay friends, some of whom they'd lost touch with, led Robin and Adam into poking around on social media trying to find what they were up to. The mostly successful exercise took them through to bedtime. A bedtime that wouldn't see much if anything in the way of romance, but that didn't matter. Having the love of your life next to you when you went to sleep and again when you rose was plenty to be thankful for.

The next morning dawned very differently, weather-wise, to the previous Sunday. Wet, dank, the conditions which made Adam and Robin want to hunker down and have a leisurely morning, with copious mugs of tea and plenty of biscuits. The forecast was an optimistic "brighter later," which could allow them to get some fresh air and stretch Hamish's growing legs.

Over breakfast, Robin asked Adam to outline what else he could remember from lunch the previous day. "If you didn't lose concentration entirely."

"I did listen to some of it, I'll have you know. There were a few quite interesting bits, especially when he talked about how he'd pinned down where Mark's mother had been born." Adam described the box with the brochures, the clippings and list of books. "Shame your grandparents didn't leave something similar to start him on the trail."

"Yeah. Nothing like that which I'm aware of and Mum would know if there was because Dad would have either told her or left it in an obvious place to find. They had no secrets. Like us." Robin squeezed his husband's hand. "That story of the local witch fits with what we heard yesterday, which is good."

Adam nodded, knowing how much Robin liked to gather the loose ends and have all the parts of a story link up, whether they were important ones or not. "I'm not sure anything else of great importance appeared. I've a feeling Ryan said he knew Suzy before she married Mark. Or did he just know of her? Sorry to be so useless, but I found it hard to keep track of everything he said with the whole ‘use a hundred words where ten would have done' thing."

"No need to apologise. Pru, Ben, and I all felt the same, and we're trained to hang on every word that a witness says. And in theory we're supposed to be able to pick the ten important ones from the ninety fillers."

"Well, he definitely mentioned a mutual friend and that Suzy was like someone out of a book. If that makes any sense or helps at all."

"It helps in that it confirms something Christine Probert said. She told us Suzy's life was like a soap opera."

Adam nodded. "I've seen a few of those in every school I've worked at. Jim Rashford used to say that he suspected some of the Culdover parents used EastEnders as a guide on how to live your life. Screaming and swearing included."

"Will I sound terribly old if I say the media has a lot to answer for? Oh, hello." Robin smiled down at the furry canine head which had arrived to snuggle against him. "You've had your breakfast, so don't angle to get any of mine."

"Trouble is, he's sussed out which one of us is the soft parent."

"Nice cop to your nasty?" Robin chuckled. It was great to see his normal good humour being restored, which was further evidence that the case must be making progress. "I guess it could be worth us talking to Ryan again as he's clearly been doing research over and above the family tree stuff. Like the news article about the Skegness punch-up. So pleased we knew about that before we met the Hanleys, by the way."

"My pleasure to help, Oh Great Detective."

Robin snorted in derision. "He didn't mention he'd uncovered something equally juicy?"

"Nope, or I'd have said." Adam sipped his coffee. "Who draws the short straw this time? Maybe you should let Ashok or what's the other one ... the new constable?"

"Danielle."

"I need to get that into my brain. Danielle." Adam nodded. "Let one of that pair talk to him. It'll be good experience."

"Sharing out the pain you mean? I guess he has good intentions. Trying to be helpful," Robin informed the dog, who seemed completely oblivious to the words but enjoyed the attention.

"That's damning with faint praise. You don't know of any nice, gay cops you could introduce him to? Save your mother a job?"

"Oi! I'm not playing matchmaker, either. Anyway, we don't approve of interactions between officers and witnesses." Robin had the grace to grin.

"Hamish, tell your father not to be a hypocrite." Adam sighed happily. A bit of banter, the three of them being a proper family. He'd have to hope that such a good start to a Sunday might presage an excellent week ahead.

Monday morning, the atmosphere had subtly changed in the incident room. Irrespective of whether it was at last having someone—Alex Hanley—who might just have the magic combination of means, motive and opportunity, or a day's rest working its trick, the team seemed revitalised. A flurry of activity was taking place, which allowed Robin a bit of time to catch up on emails and paperwork before getting everyone together to discuss what they'd turned up in their investigations.

He'd briefed Cowdrey on the events of the weekend and promised he'd let the boss know immediately if anything came from the discussion with Ryan, which Robin had decided not to delegate. It wasn't only a matter of sparing his team the potential boredom: if Robin's mother got mentioned, while he had nothing to hide about her meeting Ryan, it could lead to awkwardness and having to make long explanations. It was far easier to handle things himself.

He'd texted the bloke to arrange a telephone chat midmorning, getting an immediate and apologetic reply saying that the present moment would be good, or else it would have to be tomorrow. Robin rang him right back, not wanting to wait—with any luck, not being face-to-face might cut down on Ryan's prattling. As it turned out, the bloke appeared to be a different character when on the telephone to Robin than he must have been with Pru. Respect for the rank or recognising the slightly changed relationship? Whatever the reason, Ryan proved to be very professional-sounding, making a brief reference to meeting both Robin's mother and husband before saying that time in the pub was separate to police business and he'd make sure he kept it so.

"That's very much appreciated. I'm happy for my team to know she's taken up your services—they already know my dad was adopted—but I don't want them distracted from the business in hand. Right, thanks to the information you gave Pru, I've been meeting various members of Mark's family over the weekend, although only one of them, his brother, Kevin, gave me the kind of details we need about Mark's life." If Kevin's statement could honestly be said to have done that. "We do have a much clearer picture of his family relations, but Mark remains a puzzle, especially as we've been getting conflicting accounts from different people. For example, he didn't get on with his in-laws according to some folk and then according to others, he got along with them fine or at least pretended to."

"Hmm. It's possible everything you've said has an element of truth, because in my estimation Mark was a complex person. Then I suppose plenty of people aren't straightforward and they wouldn't have the challenges that life threw Mark's way over the last few years. I always think of Lance Armstrong, doing all that good work with his charity and then it turned out he was a drugs cheat. The cheating and the charity were two sides of the same man. Not that Mark was up to anything dodgy."

That reminded Robin of his conversation with Ashok about Harold Shipman. Was the aura these people built up around themselves merely part of a conscious grooming process or were they genuinely, as Ryan said, people with two greatly contrasting sides?

"What about Suzy? I know you didn't know her, but did you get the impression, from what Mark said, that there were two sides to her?"

"I don't know about two sides, but she was quite a character. I'd met her a few times—years ago, before she was married—through a mutual friend. The one who recommended my research work to Mark. This pal also worked at Haveland and Sons, in the research and development department, which is on the site where Mark and Suzy were based, so it's rather incestuous, if that's the right word to describe interrelations within a company. I suppose it's natural that people have flings with each other." That sounded rather wistful: perhaps a wish that he'd had the opportunity for such a work-based relationship.

"Can I clarify something?" Robin was getting quite efficient at knowing how to cut in when Ryan paused, no matter how briefly. "Is this friend the person you spoke about at the pub?"

"Yes, that's the chap. Name of Nick Archibald. He'd got himself a bit stuck following up one branch of his family line, because his great-grandmother had the surname Cox and there's a lot of them about. I should have mentioned him to you or one of your officers when we spoke previously, but there seemed so much else to discuss. I really don't know how you and your sergeant pick through it all."

"You probably didn't realise he'd be of interest." Robin wasn't sure he was, either.

"Oh, I should have done, because they were going out for a while. Another one of her Haveland boyfriends."

"In that case, I'm definitely interested."

"Hence my apology." Ryan chuckled. "Anyway, I met her at Nick's birthday party. They were still going out at the time, so this was pre-Mark. Her ex was there too, and he worked for the company as well—something on the drug approval side, I think—so everything was potentially hashtag awkward, although not to her. Water off the proverbial, as far as she seemed to be concerned. Not long after that, Mark must have come to the company, which is when my mate got chucked over. I think it was all very amicable, the split, or else why would Mark have asked me to help with the family history stuff on Nick's recommendation, like your mother's friend suggested me to her?"

Was it unchristian to think that Nick's recommendation had happened as a form of mild revenge on the bloke who'd taken Suzy? Inflicting Ryan and his endless chatter on the man who'd stolen his girlfriend? More importantly, stealing Suzy might have provided a motive for Nick to want to take a stronger revenge, if the resentment had festered over the years.

"I'm surprised this pal of yours, Nick, would have wanted to do Mark any favours, if he was the reason Suzy had ditched him."

"Oh, he didn't mind that much, to be honest. If she hadn't gone off, he'd probably have been doing the ditching." Ryan snorted. "He's married now, with a lovely wife and rather cute twins, so he reckons Mark was welcome to Suzy. That sounds very cruel, doesn't it, given how she must have suffered when she was ill, and the whole thing about not speaking anything nasty concerning the dead, but I know you want the truth rather than a story that's sugar-coated. Both about what happened and how people feel. Or felt."

"We certainly do," Robin leaped in. That might spike any theory about Nick having a motive to kill Mark, although it would be easy enough to pretend you were pleased with your new set up while harbouring resentment about your old one. Especially if Nick still felt any affection for Suzy and held the belief that somehow Mark had been the one responsible for her not getting the medical help she needed in time. "What you say about Suzy and her relationships can't harm her now, especially as it'll only get mentioned in court if it's relevant to the case. When and if we ever get someone in the dock, of course."

"Well, if you're encouraging me to be absolutely honest, I have a feeling Nick didn't entirely trust her. When he first went out with Suzy, I'm not sure she and her previous chap had completely broken up—at least, that's what Nick told me, so I appreciate it's only what you call hearsay. It wouldn't surprise me if she was two-timing Nick with Mark in their early days, or maybe with another person. Something along those lines, anyway. One of those complicated situations that you always get in soap operas. Well, I assume you get them in soap operas, because I never watch the dreadful things, but my mother and grandmother were obsessed by Neighbours and were always trying to encourage me to give the thing a try. I resisted."

As Ryan carried on about the box-watching habits of his female relatives, Robin wondered if "playing away from home" was part of what Christine Probert had been referring to with her comment about Suzy's life. She'd also used the words soap opera. Robin could imagine those revelations coming out as part of Suzy's wine-fuelled heart-to-heart.

"Hello? Chief Inspector?"

"Sorry." Not a good idea for Robin to admit he'd been miles away and hadn't heard the last few sentences. "I was having to deal with something, case-wise."

"No worries. I was asking if you wanted a contact number for Nick."

"Yes, please." Robin really needed to concentrate or he'd miss something of importance. Despite what he'd said to Adam about training in interviewing techniques, he was struggling to apply them to Ryan. "Is he still in the area?"

"Yes. Not working at Haveland's these days, which is perhaps just as well. I have a feeling he might have gone to Suzy's funeral, but you'd need to check that with him."

Robin would. While that invitation to attend might indicate Mark had no beef with the bloke, the reverse didn't apply. Was it too large a leap of deduction to think that words had been exchanged at the funeral, words which had riled Mark? He'd certainly appeared to be worked up, according to Kevin. Maybe his "going ballistic" at the family history stuff had been him letting off steam at something else.

"While I have you on the line, Ryan, can I ask if you turned up anything unusual about Mark's grandmother, Moira? Something that could have been in any way embarrassing if it became public knowledge and not only just post-World War II."

"More embarrassing than having a child out of wedlock? Or getting into a fight in Skeg-Vegas?" Ryan chuckled.

"Yes. Some really personal stain on her character, like being caught soliciting or working in a brothel." That felt a fitting term for the era, rather than being a sex worker, which was not what it would have been called back then.

"Funnily enough, I did. Not quite the same as being caught standing on street corners, because it didn't apply to her sexual behaviour so much as a friend's, but it's exactly the kind of thing that might have caused a rumpus back in the forties or fifties. Even now it's the type of business that some people—unenlightened people if you're being kind and bigots if you're not—still feel uncomfortable about now. This friend of Moira's got caught cottaging in Lincoln. He was one of the waiters from the hotel where she worked, and she appeared in court as a character witness for him. I found that in an old newspaper too, but only a couple of days ago, so Mark wouldn't have known about it. Although I located it in a digitalised archive rather than amongst those newspaper clippings in the box Mark's mother had kept. Did your mother mention those?"

"Adam did. He knew I'd be interested in what methods you employed and it's possibly relevant to this case, not just my family history. Was this court appearance all you've discovered that could have blackened Moira's name?"

"So far, yes, apart from a letter to the newspaper damning her by association as well. This all happened not long after she'd had Mark's mother, so it may have been an added incentive for her to go off working on the ships until all the fuss died down."

"Quite possibly." Robin thanked Ryan, said that they'd no doubt be in touch again about the Bright family mystery, if not about the murder, and cut off the call.

If Alex had known about the indecency trial and his mother's name being splashed all over the papers in a defamatory manner, he might have resented that fact as another shameful secret which had both been kept from him and affected his family's reputation. Although who would have told him about it? Would Isabel have seen it as appropriate fodder for feeding to the family? Robin shook his head and shrugged, despite nobody being in his office to see him. He'd better ring Nick to arrange a chat, after which he'd need to go and talk to the team, before he fell down the rabbit hole of speculative thoughts.

Call made, Robin emerged from his office and scanned the incident room, which was still a hive of activity. Pru had not long been back from Mark's house, where she'd been looking for anything that might link the Hanleys to him and asking the neighbours if they'd seen a camper van around. As the other constables were also present, it seemed the ideal time to take stock.

Robin rapped a table to get everyone's attention. "I've been talking to Ryan, and I'm pleased to say he's not that bad when you've worked out how to handle him. He's given me another avenue to explore, one of Suzy's exes called Nick, but before I get onto talking about him, is everyone up to speed with what Ashok and I learned on our travels north of the Watford Gap?"

"Ashok talked us through it, sir, and filled in some of the gaps—excuse the pun." Ben grinned.

"I've put the key information up on the board too." Ashok jerked his thumb, superfluously, towards his annotations and newly pinned photos.

"Great. Let's follow up all the Hanley stuff before we branch off into boyfriends." Robin gave the team a summary of what he'd learned about Moira during the telephone call. "It's all of a piece with the ‘shame and scandal in the family' business that seems to get Alex Hanley so het up."

Danielle raised her hand. "Sir, given the timings, is there any chance that this waiter Moira spoke up for in court was also her child's father?"

"Doubt it." Ashok snorted. "He was caught in a compromising position in a men's loo, remember."

Robin resisted leaping in to correct his constable, allowing Danielle the chance to respond. Always interesting to see an officer's wider view on life.

"That means nothing," she said, fulfilling Robin's hopes. "He might have been bisexual. Or deeply in the closet and putting it about on occasions to reduce the chance of being found out."

"But Isabel told Alex that his half sister's father was a married man, which Moira didn't realise until too late," Ashok pointed out. "Although I grant you that might have been a lie. Better in those days, I guess, to admit to adultery than to sleeping with a gay bloke."

"Or he could easily have been married and still be either bi or gay," Danielle said. "It happened back then. It still happens."

Pru, who'd quietly been taking everything in, no doubt to process it in her usual efficient manner, said, "If he was the father, irrespective of his marital status, his sexual proclivities could have added to Moira's self-imposed pressure not to keep the child. She might have wanted to avoid imposing potential scandal on them. By the way, there were no obvious links to Alex or Lucy Hanley amongst Mark's stuff, and neither of the neighbours had seen a camper van around. I doubt they'd forget it, because the sheer mention of such a vehicle got their noses turned up. Not the sort of thing the Tumulus Gardens mafia would approve of."

"I bet." Robin nodded. "Where are we with phone calls and emails, Ben?"

"As expected, plenty of contact between Ryan and Mark, via both of those methods. I've also found Tom, although no match for either the Packers or Alex on the mobile phone unless it's from a long time ago. We're still waiting to hear about the landline records."

"I can tell you the last number to call him on that. I rang 1471." Pru beamed.

"One up to you. We forgot to," Robin admitted. "I'd say it was because we assumed so few folk use their landlines these days but that would be a lie. Simple oversight."

"It only occurred to me to do it because Mrs. Crouch's phone went when I was talking to her but she didn't answer it. She said people who rang were generally trying to con her, so she tended to let the thing ring out and then check who'd called, via 1471. If she recognised the number, she rang back and apologised for being in the garden when the original call came. I'll remember that for when I'm retired. If I ever get there, given the way they keep putting the retirement age up. I'll fetch the number." As Pru went to find it, she said, "It'll probably only be one of these hard to trace ‘you've got a virus on your computer' things. Does this mean anything to you, Ben?"

"I can tell you for certain it's not a scam, unless Alex Hanley's taken to doing them. It's his number, all right." Ben waved the slip of paper triumphantly. "We're lucky that people don't use their landlines much, or this would have been replaced by a more recent call. When did it come in?"

"The Wednesday evening before Mark died. Alex did say he hadn't been in contact at all?" Pru asked.

"He did, the liar." Ashok scowled.

"Being devil's advocate, it's possible that he didn't get a reply on the Wednesday evening when he rang so didn't feel that counted as actually being in touch, but I suspect that's taking an overgenerous view. Why not confess to the fact?" Robin glanced at the incident board: how many other lies had the people named there told? "1471 still records calls which were answered, doesn't it? Not only the ones you missed. Ben, can you put pressure on the landline company to get the duration of the call and whether there were any others from that number? Ashok, anything from your Lincolnshire enquiries yet?"

"A few bits. The sister at the care home was working there when Moira was first admitted and remembers Alex going on and on about how terrible his mother's fall had been and how he wished he'd broken with custom and walked into the house. She said he clearly felt a great burden of guilt over what happened."

"I'm sure he did, although maybe not for the reason given." Robin needed to ensure the rest of the team were clear about his thoughts. "I know you're not mind readers, so I should explain where I'm heading with this. Ashok and I both felt the Hanleys were hiding something. It may have been this phone call Pru's tracked down, but it's probably more and that more isn't necessarily all to do with Mark. Alex is a very angry man, especially concerning his mother, so I'm wondering if he lashed out at her like he lashed out at the guy in Skegness."

"Causing her to fall?" Pru, bottom lip stuck out in thought, tipped her head from side to side, clearly weighing up the options. "Did anyone suspect that at the time?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Ashok said. "The officer who dealt with the assault saw Alex after Moira's fall, because the case clearly rumbled on a bit until it was heard in court, and says the bloke was mortified at what had happened to her. He read the situation as a dutiful son feeling helpless about an aging parent, like so many people do. I got her old address and did some digging on Google Maps, though, and discovered she lived in a bungalow that was probably not overlooked by anyone. So, Alex could have said what he liked about how long he spent on the doorstep before letting himself into the house and nobody would have dobbed him in about it."

"My rozzer's nose—which is often right—tells me that something's off-kilter about the story of what went on the day Moira had her stroke. Ashok, when Alex was telling his version of events—all the business about ringing the bell rather than just barging in—Lucy had her eye on him, didn't she? As though she was afraid he'd let something slip. Wasn't the first time during that interview that she seemed to be on tenterhooks. In fact, the pair of them had edgy moments. I'd really like to know what they were scared of."

"Sir, I was thinking about this yesterday. Kept going back over the interview with the Hanleys in my mind and I had a thought. It's only an idea to consider and I don't know if it helps or complicates things." Ashok bit his lip.

"Given that we don't yet have any firm line about exactly what went on when Mark was killed or his grandmother took her fall, let's have all the ideas going, as far as I'm concerned." Fresh insight certainly couldn't hurt at this stage.

"I wondered if we might have got things the wrong way round. I know I'm not explaining myself very well but it's more a feeling than logic. Like when your rozzer's nose twitches." The constable took a deep breath. "We know Lucy's protective of her husband, and throughout that interview she seemed concerned he might say something he shouldn't, not solely about standing on that doorstep."

Robin nodded. "And for the benefit of the others, the couple did appear to have a pre-planned story that either wasn't pre-planned well enough or which they couldn't, for whatever reason, stick to. What do you think we read wrongly, Ashok?"

"What she was worried about—apart from the mother's fall and Alex's contact with Mark. What if we're mistaken thinking that Lucy's covering for her husband being the killer and worrying he might let slip something that incriminates him. What if she did the killing and she's anxious about him saying something to incriminate her?"

"Did she seem like a potential killer?" Ben asked.

Ashok shrugged. "Don't lots of people have the potential to kill if they find themselves faced with a situation where their loved ones are in danger?"

"There's nothing I saw on Saturday to argue against her being a suspect. Haven't we seen plenty of women who've murdered to protect themselves or their families?" Robin paused. "Ashok. We were told something about Lucy, I think by Tom."

Ashok frowned. "That's she's mad on the royal family?"

"That's it!" Robin gave the team a grin. "No, we've not gone potty. Lucy likes the royals because her dad was once part of the official protection team. That's made me think of Pru's mate. Ashok, can you bend Tom's ear about it? See if by any wonderful chance Lucy acquired her dad's truncheon—or anything else you could use for self-defence—like the girl with the holdall did."

"I'll get onto it as soon as." Ashok seemed delighted to be allowed to follow the trail of something that might support his new theory.

"I hate to be a party pooper, but we don't know for certain that the blunt instrument that killed Mark was a truncheon," Ben pointed out, "and even if Lucy had one, her husband could have borrowed it."

"Which are totally valid arguments, the second of which would argue in favour of them planning the attack. Or for the possibility of one," Robin replied. "What I had in mind was that Lucy might have routinely carried it round to protect herself, especially when on holiday. Irrespective of the legalities, a blunt instrument would help protect both when they're in that camper van parked up in the back of beyond."

"That could work, sir," Ashok said with renewed confidence. "Let's say they arrange to meet Mark in the woods but Lucy goes instead of Alex, as part of shielding her husband from having to face the half nephew he'd like to disown. Mark's not happy about the swap, and the pair get into an argument. She feels she's being threatened and lashes out. Doesn't realise how hard a blow she's struck until it's too late. Realises he's dead, panics, and legs it."

"What about the car?" Pru asked. "How does that fit into a fight gone wrong rather than a planned attack?"

"A stroke of luck on her part." Ashok jabbed his thumb towards the photo of the car. "She takes the Yaris to make it easier to get away and meet Alex, rather than him having to come and get her."

"What about Mark's missing suitcase? What reason would she have for getting rid of that?" Trust Pru to pick up on the very element that continued to flummox Robin.

"She knew the car was going to be found at some point and dumped the case to try to confuse the trail?" Ashok clearly didn't feel confident about his suggestion.

"Maybe Mark had also, independently of Ryan, turned up the story about his grandmother's appearance in the witness box and had printed it off to discuss with Tom," Danielle suggested. "He mentions all of that in the argument, and she sees a chance to get rid of it."

Pru slapped the desk, making them all jump. "We're being blind. Forget about a trial seventy years ago and look for a louder ticking time bomb than that. Think about what happened to Moira in 2020. If Mark had somehow turned up information that cast doubts on Alex's story about his mother's fall, that would be a damn sight more dangerous to him and Lucy than an old story about sticking up for a mate in court. Mark might have been taking that to discuss with Tom. He'd want to know what happened to his granny."

A rumble of agreement ran round the team, one in which Robin joined. "You could be onto something, Pru. In that scenario, I'd guess the Hanleys could have known about that information when they agreed to the meeting and went in with a plan in case something went wrong. Otherwise, why set up the Timsworth alibi unless they thought they'd need it?"

"How could Mark have found out about the fall, though?" Danielle asked. "I'm not doubting the idea, just getting it clear in my head."

Pru shrugged. "Maybe he talked to the people at the care home. I assume he'd have asked Tom whether Moira was still alive and got the story you did."

"Mark could have spoken to the chief gossip," Ashok said, then had to explain whom he was referring to. "Perhaps we should do the same. I bet Isabel's got a view on what happened the day Moira had her stroke."

"If she's as sharp as she's supposed to be, I bet Isabel's got a view on Mark's murder too. Assuming she knows about him." Robin pinched his top lip, trying to work out the next step. Legging it all the way back to Lincolnshire felt premature, so a telephone call might be best. "Ashok, I know it's your idea, but I'm going to ask Pru to ring Isabel once we've got a number for her, which Tom can probably provide. It'll be a tricky interview, because we want information from the woman, not to provide her with gossip fodder. That's the reason I won't ring, because a call from a chief inspector would surely raise her suspicions."

"I agree, sir." Pru gave Ashok an apologetic smile and got a resigned nod in response.

"Okay. Last bit about the Hanleys for the moment. Where are we on their alibis, Danielle?"

The constable pulled a frustrated face. "There's no functioning CCTV in the car park they're said to have used, I'm afraid. I could check traffic cameras for the area, sir."

"Leave that for the time being. It would be a pointless exercise if we discover they were both at the abbey at the time they said." Plenty of opportunity to go through traffic footage, or examine mobile-phone location history, if the investigation ended up no further forward from more traditional methods.

"I've got something else on the abbey angle." Danielle nodded. "I've been in touch with the parish office. They reckoned the stewards are a pretty laid-back crew and apparently don't pounce on visitors and force them to pay as soon as they enter the place. But the very helpful office lady I spoke to did let on that they'd had a new volunteer on duty that Saturday. There'd been a few complaints about this newbie being rather officious. You know, trying to get everyone to consider donating as much as they could afford. The office lady went through the emails they'd received to kick up a stink and none of them were from the Hanleys, so perhaps this volunteer cowed them into coughing up, despite what they told you and Ashok. I'm going to ring her later and see if she remembers them."

"Good. She might recall them, even if they meekly paid and didn't want to admit the fact to us. While Alex is like every slightly grumpy bloke of his age, I'd say Lucy could stick in people's minds. Purple hair for a start and I don't mean a blue rinse. Deep voice, too." Robin stopped. Deep voice. "Pru, that argument Mr. Rashid said he heard. Remind me about it."

"While he couldn't say for certain, it was between a guy we think was Mark and either a bloke or a woman with a deepish voice. Could have been your Lucy. Do we have any other women we've spoken to who could fit the bill, vocally?" Pru asked. "What about Izzy Packer?"

Robin shrugged. "Maybe. More husky than deep, I'd have said, but maybe she sounds different when she shouts. The only other female witness I've spoken to is Christine Probert, and she's a soprano rather than a tenor, if you get me."

"We also spoke to Mark's neighbours, sir," Ben said. "Although I can't see either Mrs. Crouch or Mrs. Armstrong doing the deed."

"Okay, so let's leave that aspect and get back to Suzy's ex-boyfriend. He's called Nick Archibald, and I'd like to interview him as soon as possible." Robin strolled over to the board, writing the man's name on it. "He seems to have been pally with Mark, despite any love rivalry, so I'm not saying he's automatically a suspect."

"Seems like we've got your favourite pairing of friends and family to put in the frame, though," Pru said.

"I didn't want to mention that." Robin chuckled. As his sergeant would, with any luck, be dealing with Isabel, he'd need to find another partner for what might prove a crucial interview. Time to involve the new recruit. "Nick's working from home today so he's happy to see us whenever we can drop in. He lives on one of the new estates at the top of Abbotston, so I'm proposing heading up there now. I'd normally have Pru in tow but another one of you will have to draw the short straw this time. Ashok and Ben have had an outing, so it has to be Danielle's turn."

The constable beamed. This would be the first occasion upon which they'd worked together interviewing a witness, and she'd no doubt see it as another step in her integration into the rest of a fairly established crew. "I'll be right there, sir. Let me grab my bag and visit the ladies'."

"I'll visit the gents' and see you in the car park."

Robin—as he always did with a new officer—let Danielle drive him and was pleased to quickly discover that she was a highly sensible motorist. Memories of Anderson, another one of his protégés and a bit of a demon behind the wheel at times, could still make Robin shudder.

"How are you settling in?" he asked, once they were on their way. They'd have a relatively short trip miles-wise but the journey time would be longer than usual, impacted by the rash of local roadworks which had sprouted up over the last few weeks.

"I'm really happy, sir. Everyone's been so helpful, especially Pru. You don't mind putting in every ounce of effort if you feel it's appreciated."

Robin shot her a glance, although the constable's face proved impassive. "That sounds like your efforts haven't always been appreciated in the past."

Danielle shrugged. "I don't want to dob anyone in, sir, so can I just say that you're right and leave it at that?"

"We can, as long as what you've experienced is only lack of appreciation, because if it's anything worse, I'd like to know. It's not dobbing in if the behaviour you're reporting on is unacceptable." All kinds of things were crawling out of the woodwork all over the country, to show that misogyny, racism, and homophobia in the police force weren't things of the past. Robin wouldn't stand for any of it on his teams—people could have plenty of banter and laughs without resorting to cheap and nasty shots.

"It was only that, sir, honest. I'd have been confident telling you if it was anything bad." Danielle smiled gratefully. "You've a reputation for being straight up. Didn't you sort out the previous crowd at Abbotston?"

"I was part of the cleanup, yes. Mr. Cowdrey's another who's got as little time for this stuff as I have. I think he'd like all the crud chucked out of the service before he retires, but that's a vain hope." Robin feared it would be long after he retired that all the bad eggs were got rid of, because new ones kept hatching.

"All that makes me extra pleased to be here rather than at Kinechester." Uncertainty flickered across Danielle's face. "I have to confess I was a bit worried, because the bloke who was supposed to be at Abbotston and then got the place there told a mate of mine that he'd got the plum job. Bigger station and more serious cases at Kinechester, rather than the humdrum stuff we usually deal with. I bet he's spitting nails because I'm getting the experience of working on a murder."

"I bet he is too." Robin could state that with added confidence as he'd heard via the Cowdrey grapevine that the constable concerned had been assigned a spate of petty thefts to investigate and had taken the task with ill-disguised resentment. "Nobody would pretend that these serious cases are pleasant—the only thing worse is anything involving children being hurt—but you'll learn plenty if you watch what everyone's doing, because there are a lot of different skills in the team. Don't watch them to the detriment of your own work, though."

Danielle grinned. "Don't worry, I've no intention of blotting my copybook, sir. Not that we blot anything these days, because I don't know anyone who uses a fountain pen, but these old sayings do hang on."

"Yep. My partner's got a book about the origins of common sayings and it's a fascinating read. A lot of them seem to go back to the days all ships had sails. The devil to pay. By and large." The ensuing discussion on the topic of adages that people used without knowing the original meaning was only cut short when they arrived at the estate where Nick lived. At which point they had to focus completely on locating his home—and somewhere convenient to park—among the rabbit warren of streets.

Eventually, they found the house tucked away up a cul-de-sac off the main part of the road.

When Nick answered the door and warrant cards had been flashed, he asked, "Where are you parked? I never thought to warn you about how tricky it can be to find us."

"We found a space marked for visitors," Robin assured him, with a grin. "Once we'd been round the block a few times."

Nick rolled his eyes. "It's the only complaint I have about the estate. I bet the planners wanted to discourage car usage, but that strategy won't work when public transport is so rubbishy round here." He ushered Robin and Danielle into the house, steering them towards the dining room and apologising for any toys they might find lying around. "Luckily the twins are at the nursery, so it's less chaotic than it usually is. Can I get you tea? Coffee?"

"Tea, please," Robin replied.

"Same. Thanks." Danielle perched on one of the wooden chairs as their host went to get the drinks. "Lack of parking aside, I really like this style of property. There are loads of similar places around Abbotston, although the prices shot up over the last few years. Not sure I could ever afford one."

"I think we've all felt the same at some point. The first step onto the housing ladder's the hardest." Especially in some parts of the local area, such as Kinechester, where it was easy to commute to London. "These kinds of houses were all built at a similar time. I won't say I can remember when it was all fields round here because it'll make me sound very old but I've seen a lot of change."

"You're a spring chicken, sir."

As the constable got herself ready to take notes and then checked her phone, Robin thought back to his own days as a lowly officer. He'd been lucky to find a relatively cheap flat, one that his dad had helped him do up, and later on there'd been his old boyfriend Patrick to help pay the bills. He and Adam had driven past Patrick not six months previously and—like Ben with Christine Probert—Robin had suggested they go back round to check whether it really was him. They'd not stopped for a chat on that occasion, though, partly because of the potential awkwardness and partly because time had clearly not been kind to the bloke. Robin had felt a bit guilty at encouraging Adam to keep driving, but life had moved on, and he hadn't been sure he and Patrick had anything to say to each other any longer. Certainly not with a husband on his arm.

The kettle must have been quick to boil because Nick was soon back with tea and biscuits. "I was sorry to read about Mark," he said, while pouring out the brew for all three of them. "Any idea when the funeral will be or is there an inquest first?"

"Yes to the inquest and no idea to the funeral. After the coroner adjourns matters and releases the body, but more than that I can't say." Robin hadn't previously given a thought to who would be organising the function. Kevin? Kevin's wife? The Packers? "Danielle, could you make a note to let Mr. Archibald know if and when we get any news on that?"

"Will do, sir." She jotted down the required reminder.

"I think you're the first person who's asked us that question," Robin said. "I have to confess I'm surprised."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Because the other people you've spoken to didn't? They may have thought you were the wrong person to ask."

"Less that than because, while I know you recommended Ryan's services to Mark, so you must have been on speaking terms, I'm used to love rivals not being exactly the best of buddies."

Mark chuckled. "Love rivals? Did Ryan call us that when you spoke to him?"

"Not quite, although he did say that Suzy had chucked you when she took up with Mark. He also said that you weren't too upset about the fact, which doesn't match our usual experience of these situations, either." Robin blew on his tea before taking a sip. The brew was strong, tasty, and very welcome. And while he'd usually be delighted to meet a witness so welcoming and clearly ready to cooperate, he couldn't help feeling a touch of regret that Nick—at least on first impressions—seemed too open and genuine to be Mark's killer. Don't forget the earlier conversations about Lance Armstrong and Harold Shipman. "Tell us what really happened."

"To be honest, I was angry with Mark at one point, because he did in effect steal Suzy from me, although on sober reflection—that's literally sober reflection—I soon concluded that I didn't think anyone could ever steal Suzy. Not completely." Nick paused, no doubt having registered the bewildered expression Danielle was wearing. "I'm not making any sense, am I? Afraid I'm not good at talking about the touchy-feely stuff at the best of times and I've never had to talk to the police about a murder."

"Say things as they come," Robin suggested. "We can ask for clarification if we're not sure what you mean."

"Okay. What I was trying to say was that Suzy was a free spirit, probably because of her hippie upbringing. Did what she wanted, even if that meant keeping two blokes on the go at the same time or ditching one because she'd found a better prospect." Nick blew out his cheeks. "She may not have resembled her parents on the outside, but the apple didn't fall far from the tree."

Robin took another drink of tea, buying time to frame his thoughts. "We were told that she'd rebelled against the things her parents stood for."

Nick shrugged. "Maybe, in terms of how she dressed and her rejecting the whole ‘grow-your-own and don't have a car because it'll kill the planet' thing, but the essence of the sixties was ingrained in her somewhere. Women free to do what they want and all that, irrespective of what other folk thought."

Danielle glanced at Robin. "Can I ask something?"

"Go ahead." He nodded encouragingly.

"Was Suzy cheating on Mark? Either before or after they were married?"

"I have no idea. It wouldn't surprise me if she was, given her track record, but I'd be a liar if I said I knew for certain or that I could hazard a guess who with, unless it was one of her exes. It wasn't me, for a fact." Nick sounded a touch flustered; maybe he was getting his defence in before he was confronted with the question.

"Did she two-time you?" Danielle asked.

"Yes and no." Nick ran his hands through his hair, leaving it spiked up like a small boy's. "She was supposedly still with her previous guy—Harry—when we first went out. I think she was monogamous with me for most of our relationship, although that might have been wishful thinking on my part. I'm pretty sure Mark and I overlapped, but you never could get a straight story from Suzy at the best of times. She wasn't a straightforward type."

Robin nodded. Ryan had spoken about Mark being a complex bloke. Clearly, like had called to like in his choice of partner. That double-whammy of two convoluted characters in a relationship could go towards explaining a lot of the contradictions in the accounts Robin had heard of who got on with whom and who was being blamed for what. "Would you say Suzy was the kind who might play both sides against the middle? Maybe slag off her parents to her husband and vice versa?"

Nick didn't appear surprised at the question. "Yeah, I would. She certainly liked people to be on her side and was happy to bend the truth a bit to maintain that."

Robin recalled the earlier conversation with Ryan, when he'd been musing about conscious grooming. Certainly Suzy's behaviour could have been said to be on the greater grooming spectrum. For instance, had her wine-soaked discussion with Christine been a calculated thing, at least in part, to garner sympathy and make sure Suzy's version of what had happened was believed?

"Did Suzy's death come as a shock to you?" Danielle asked, jogging Robin back into the moment.

"Yes. Partly because I'd lost touch with her, so didn't know for a long time that she had become ill. To be frank, we all had other matters on our mind when Covid struck and keeping up with old flames wasn't top of my priorities." Nick's point was valid. It had been a different world back then, on many fronts. A world that now seemed ancient history. "Then one day I ran into Suzy—not in any deliberate way—about six months before she died. By then I'd heard the rumours from ex-colleagues who were still at Havelands that she wasn't well."

Danielle glanced up from her notetaking. "You didn't immediately get in touch when you were told she was ill?"

Nick shook his head. "I consciously decided not to contact her. It was on the one hand feeling that it would be intrusive to pop up out of the blue and say something like, ‘Sorry you're dying' and on the other hand sheer bloody cowardice. She might have wanted to cry on my shoulder, and I didn't want that to happen. I'm not good with the touchy-feely, as I said. Anyway, I happened to see her at Burton's Garden Centre, the other side of Abbotston. It's got a play area so it's a place I take the twins to give Rosie—my wife—a break. I was there one weekend and saw Suzy going to the coffee shop, apparently to have a catch-up with a mate. We didn't have time to chat much, especially with those two tugging on my arm." Nick pointed with evident pride and affection at a large portrait of the youngsters. "Suzy didn't look as bad as I feared she might, but cancer's an awful disease, isn't it? Doesn't always show that much outwardly until right at the end, and anyway people can make an effort to hide it. Suzy would have done."

Robin remembered the photograph in Mark's house and how happy Suzy had appeared in it. Putting on a show for the benefit of the camera? If so, who could blame her. "Could any of Suzy's ex-boyfriends have posed a threat to Mark? Somebody who didn't feel as happy as you did at their splitting up?"

"Nobody springs to mind straight away." Nick peered into his mug, face wrinkled in thought, before looking up blankly. "Nope. To be honest, if somebody had a target on their back, it would have been Suzy herself. Not only about splitting up with people—plenty of blokes hate being two-timed."

They did. But it was Mark who'd been murdered, not his wife. "So my team can get everything linked up properly, time- and relationship-wise, can I take you back to a party you threw, years ago? Ryan said that he was there, as was Suzy and one of her previous boyfriends, even though she was going out with you at the time. Was the ex at the party the Harry you referred to?"

"If it's the party I think you mean, then yes. I can tell you categorically that you can eliminate Ryan from being a love interest for Suzy, because he's on the other bus." Nick's remark came across as purely factual, with no snide edge. "I've got some pictures of that evening, if you're interested in seeing them."

"If you wouldn't mind fetching them, we'd be very interested. Thanks." Robin waited until Nick had left the room, presumably in search of an old photo album, before saying, "How are you enjoying—if that's the right word—your first proper interview for a murder case?"

"It's very instructive, sir. In fact, the whole investigation so far has been." Danielle grinned sheepishly. "See, I grew up thinking police work would be like it is on the telly, and since I joined the force, not a week goes by that I don't revise my ideas. They don't get a lot right on TV, do they?"

"Nope. I guess the reality wouldn't make good viewing." Robin snorted. He wouldn't make very good fodder for the small screen. Not a maverick or a rule breaker and with a stable home life, to boot. Like the first Barnaby on Midsomer Murders, maybe, but with a better regard for wearing the proper equipment around a crime scene. "They get the false leads and red herrings right, though. It's what we're seeing here. The Hanley family history on the one hand and Suzy's love life on the other. Either could be the trail to the killer. Or neither."

Danielle nodded thoughtfully. "And what generally gives you the big breakthrough in a case, sir? The clue that tells you you're on the right track? Forensics?"

"Sometimes. Other times it's as lucky as a chance remark a suspect lets slip or as mundane as scrolling through traffic camera footage, hard work though that is." Then there were occasions arising out of discussions at home, over a meal or a beer, when something Adam said had provided such a fresh insight it led to a major leap of deduction. All coppers would benefit from having such an effective sounding board available.

The sound of descending footsteps on the stairs put paid to the discussion.

Instead of an old-fashioned photo album, Nick had a tub of memory sticks, one of which he had in his other hand. "Took me ages to find these. Another thing we had to hide when the twins came along. Anyway, I think I've got the right one, but in case I don't, I brought the lot. Hang on while I bung it in the laptop."

Nick soon found the folder he wanted and was able to display a selection of typical party photos, people either posing for the camera or caught off guard and distinctly worse for wear.

"Is that Ryan?" Robin asked, pointing to a man with a moustache among several people with facial hair, some of it unsuccessful.

"Yes. A few of us did Mo-vember that year, which didn't suit everyone, as you can see. I've never attempted it since." Nick snickered. "I think Ryan was one of the few who could pull off a tache, although Harry wasn't bad, either. This is him." Nick indicated a tall, wiry individual standing to Suzy's left, while he stood to her right. "Harry Foakes, who was another of the Haveland mafia, you might say. Although it's a pretty big company so I guess it's difficult locally to get away from people with a connection to it."

"He worked there?" Robin confirmed.

"He was the company doctor and the person who first spotted something was wrong with Suzy. Well, after she did and had left it too long to get help, if that's the right story."

"That's broadly what we've been told, although the account varies depending on who's telling it. A bit of debate about whether her parents prevented her getting proper treatment. They insist that's untrue." Robin paused to let Nick respond.

"I only met them a couple of times so can't vouch for their character, but if they deny it, I'd be tempted to believe them. I can't imagine anyone forcing Suzy to do what she didn't want or to stop her doing what she did want. If treatment was delayed or she received the wrong sort, she'd be the driving force. I can imagine her being in denial about her illness because she could be very stubborn at times. As for the story varying—" Nick shrugged. "People believe what fits their agenda, don't they?"

Robin nodded. Mark would perhaps have been open to anything that put his in-laws in a bad light, while Suzy might have opted for whatever got folk on her side. It was the same with the McKay family: Alex finding the slightest remark insulting to his mother and Tom McKay maybe eager to find a young male relative he could get on with. It could also apply to police officers, concentrating on the clues that fitted their theories.

"Was it Harry Foakes who referred her to a specialist?" Robin asked.

"I have no idea. I don't know how these things work, in terms of his relationship with the NHS, so I'm not sure he would have had the capacity to do so. Not formally, anyway. He might have been able to point her at one of his mates who did private work to get an initial diagnosis, but I don't think Suzy had private cover. Maybe he wrote to her own GP and started the ball rolling or forced her to go." Nick paused. "Suzy's problem may have shown up in a works medical, because Harry performed those routinely, although his main role at Havelands was on the medical advisory side. He's in a similar position with a multinational, now. If this is important, I could try to find out for you."

Robin raised his hand. "No, you're okay. We'll follow it up ourselves if we think it's relevant. At the moment, we're trying to make sure we have the fullest possible picture and haven't missed any details. Was Harry at Suzy's funeral, by the way, or would that have been too awkward all round? Given the possibility that she might have resumed the relationship with him at some point, maybe during her marriage."

"Are you really asking me if her having an affair, if she did have one, might be relevant to the way the diagnosis came about?"

An odd question, one that Robin couldn't quite make out. "How do you mean?"

"Sorry, I should have made myself plainer. I've just remembered seeing something on telly, years ago—on Casualty or whatever the spin-off from that was—where this doctor found a lump in his lover's breast while they were having nookie. It did cross my mind that something of the kind might have happened with Suzy." Nick sighed. "You know, Harry spotting that something was wrong when he and Suzy were at it. He could have forced her hand to take the issue seriously, because she wouldn't have been able to stay in denial then."

Danielle paused her note-taking. "That might also explain why the story around her illness and treatment is inconsistent. You can't exactly admit to your hubby how your diagnosis came about if it happened in those circumstances."

"Exactly my point." Nick gave her a smile. "Anyway, getting back to your original question: whatever Harry and Suzy were or weren't up to, he wasn't at her funeral."

"Would you have a contact number for him?" Robin asked. Irrespective of whether Harry was another potential suspect, they needed to hear what he knew about life chez Bircher.

"I don't, but I know where you can track him down. The fact he'd moved jobs to one of Haveland's bigger rivals is itself reason enough for him not to have attended Suzy's funeral, because there'd have been plenty of his old workmates present. There was a bit of bad feeling when Harry left the company, although I'm in no position to criticise anyone for taking up the opportunity of a better job. It's what I did myself."

"Okay. Well, thanks for taking time to consider the question. You'll probably guess what I'm going to ask next, and I have to say we've asked everyone we've talked to the same thing, which is to tell us what they were doing on the day Mark died. We think that's the Saturday before last." Robin deliberately left the time vague: it would be interesting if Nick homed in on a specific part of the day.

"If you're asking about the morning, I was with the twins at yet another playpark, and this time it was the one near the entrance to this estate. I chatted to Mel, who's another one of the local mums. I don't have her number, although Rosie might. She knows Mel through the nursery the twins go to, so they were the ones she recognised at the park, rather than me. Comes to something when your children have a better social life than you and are the reason people introduce themselves." Nick snorted. "Then I came home for lunch, after which we got the kids down for a nap and put our feet up. The rest of the day was spent prepping for Rosie's parents coming over for dinner that evening. They arrived about six so they could put the twins to bed while we finished cooking. Need anything either side of that?"

"Not at the moment." A nice wide range of time accounted for, although his alibi for around the time they thought Mark had been killed was the one easiest to fake, relying only on his wife's say so. "If you could get Rosie to text us Mel's number that would be useful, although I don't think we need to bother your in-laws at the moment. It's all so that my team can tick off another box on their lists and make sure we don't leave anything undone. I have nightmares about some future case in which I decide not to check a person's alibi because I don't think they have anything to do with a case and then it turns out they're the culprit." That was a slight exaggeration, but Robin did value doing for himself—or getting one of the team to do—all the boring bits of work that it was easy to pass over as unimportant and which turned out to be vital.

"I wouldn't have your job for the world," Nick said. "I'd rather be on permanent nappy duty."

Danielle made an appropriately disgusted face at the word nappy, then asked, "We've discussed Suzy's exes, but can you think of anyone else who'd have had cause to hurt Mark? Or even a reason to get in an argument with him?"

Nick shrugged. "When I read about his death on the local news site, I assumed he was the victim of a random mugging that went too far, but that's not what the media are saying now. Unless they're making things up, as they like to."

Robin noted what might be a deliberate, yet neat, sidestepping of the question. "In this case they're right. If Mark was mugged, the assailant took nothing of apparent value, apart from his set of keys. Presumably to access his car, which turned up parked legally in a multistorey in Kinechester."

"I read about that too. There was an appeal for anyone who'd seen it." Nick scratched his head. "It's all a bit bizarre. Mark drove a small car, didn't he? Not like he ran a big Jag or some other make it would be worth nicking to order. Any idea why it was taken?"

Robin shrugged. He had plenty of ideas but wasn't going to discuss them with the witness, not least because some were quite feeble. "Could have been nothing other than to get out of the Kings Ride area—with all the questions that raises about how the killer got there in the first place—but that theory's probably too simplistic, and I'm not sure anything about this case is simple. Back to my constable's question: Who might have had a grudge against Mark?"

"Couldn't tell you, or I would have told you. I don't think he got on with his in-laws, but if everyone that applied to ended up murdered, the world would be quickly depopulated, wouldn't it?"

Which was absolutely true and—for the purposes of investigation—horribly depressing.

As they drove back to the station, Danielle asked, "What do you make of an ex-lover being in the frame, sir? Whether it's Nick or Harry or somebody we've not run across yet."

"You tell me what you think," Robin countered. Always useful to see the workings of a junior officer's mind.

"I think an old boyfriend of Suzy's as her husband's killer has got a lot going for it, especially as we find out more about her. Explains one of the oddities we've come across, for a start."

"Which oddity in particular? We've got a few in this case."

"The meeting with Mark taking place in Kings Ride Woods. Why do that? Unless the killer arranged it there because they're married or in a relationship and didn't want to risk being spotted and then have to explain to their partner what they were up to. I'm getting the impression that in some of these local villages you can't sneeze without somebody noticing and reporting it back."

Robin chuckled. That described Lindenshaw to a T. "I've certainly been coming round to thinking it was the other person rather than Mark who arranged the meeting place. Assuming it was an old flame of Suzy's, what was their motive for the meeting or the murder or both?"

"Revenge. Maybe Suzy spun said ex a tale about her illness, saying Mark was the one reluctant for her to have treatment. That could be consistent with what we're learning about her character. Old flame wants to meet Mark so he can confront him about it. Says the air needs to be cleared or ... Hold on, sir. Let me think." Danielle paused. "Perhaps he says he'll tell Suzy's parents what went on and how he thinks Mark's attitude contributed to her death. Maybe threatens to spill the beans to Havelands or to us. In any case, to somebody Mark wouldn't want told what Suzy had said, even if what she alleged wasn't actually true. We all know how people believe there's no smoke without fire and they then let rumours breed."

"Okay. I agree it must have been an important meeting for Mark to go out to the woods when he still had to drive up to Lincolnshire that day and blackmail's important enough business. Where in your theory does the Yaris come in?"

Danielle broke into a self-satisfied grin. "Well, it had a bike rack, didn't it?"

"Yep. One that was free of fingerprints apart from the victim's." The CSI report had proved another frustration for the team. The car had yielded very little. Not the merest sniff of weed, let alone any hard drugs or anything else that might have made the vehicle a tempting target.

"Cycling gloves that covered the fingers," Danielle said, "would be very handy for hiding prints and wouldn't be as out of place as winter gloves would at this time of year. Mr. X, our killer, having arranged to see Mark, tells his partner he's off on one of his usual bike rides. He cycles to the woods, meets Mark, and gets into an argument with him. As a result of this dispute, Mark ends up dead, either from a blow struck in anger and with no malice aforethought or as part of a planned attack. Afterwards, Mr. X—again, either in a panic or with a degree of planning—takes Mark's keys, cycles to the car park, loads his bike on the Yaris, drives to Kinechester and then cycles home. All of which, journey-wise, acts as a blind. For both his partner and for us."

That hypothesis held together. Just. Mr. Rashid had mentioned cyclists being around, although that was slender evidence. "And where does the suitcase that we can't find come into things?"

Danielle frowned, clearly not having fitted that into her theory yet. "Well, perhaps it held something in it that Harry or Nick needed to get their hands on. Like proof of his affair with Suzy. Or maybe he ditched it on the way, in order to muddy the waters. Killers do try to be over clever at times."

"They do." Robin could think of several high-profile examples and, in his own experience, a random turnip in a dustbin that had the team puzzled and which turned out to be left solely to baffle them. "That suitcase still hasn't turned up, though. If it was slung away somewhere, it was done very effectively and the same applies if it's been hidden. How would Mr. X get it home and past the partner?"

"He couldn't have taken it home on his bike, sir, so that doesn't apply." Danielle cast him a sidelong glance before evidently realising it wasn't that serious a suggestion. "Although if it had been slung in a garden somewhere, it would have been reported. Same thing applies if it had been left in one of the back alleys in Kinechester—somebody would have called out the bomb squad."

Robin nodded. The story of a missing suitcase or overnight bag had been given to the media without bearing fruit. Various ideas had been bandied around the team and the best they'd come up with was that the suitcase had been taken home by the killer to be disposed of piecemeal or maybe tucked into a convenient skip full of household junk.

"Anyway, it's only an idea about the bicycle," Danielle said.

"It's not a bad one. Theories don't have to explain everything. Not at this point, anyway. That fun begins when we get someone in front of a jury."

If they ever got that far with this exasperating case.

They'd not long been back at the station when Danielle knocked on Robin's office door.

"I've got that contact number for Harry Foakes, sir." She placed a slip of paper on his desk. "I also found out where he lives. Do you know a village called Bishop's Manor?"

"I've heard of it but I'd need a map to see where it was." Robin noted the barely hidden excitement on the constable's face. "It's clearly significant."

"It is in terms of our conversation in the car. It's halfway between Kinechester and Kings Ride." And with a beaming, self-satisfied grin, the constable backed out through the door.