Chapter Fourteen

Another day, another drive cross country, up the M1 and all points northeast. Robin subtly manipulated who drove when so that he did the stint past Lutterworth, as he didn't relish having to explain to his sergeant why he was wistfully eyeing the sign for it. Or scanning the local countryside to see what the area was like. There were a dozen valid reasons—including the case in hand—why he shouldn't be considering whether he had roots stretching back to the town via Lutterworth Len, although he'd concluded overnight that one of those wasn't his indifference. The hours since his mother had rung had made it plain to Robin that he wanted to know who his grandfather was, even if he'd never get to meet the man and genuinely had no interest whatsoever in connecting with any living relatives. Maybe it was simply the detective in him that didn't want to leave a question unanswered.

Robin had confessed this to Adam over breakfast—slightly shamefaced as he'd insisted for so long that he didn't give a toss about his ancestry—but his husband had, as ever, been a rock.

"Whatever's best for you works for me. No right or wrong answer to this one. It's not a SATs paper."

Just as well it wasn't a test, because Robin's answer would have been rubbed out, rewritten, and rubbed out again no end of times. Still, they had other family mysteries to deal with first before the issue of the Brights could be settled.

Robin and Pru had arranged to interview Hanley formally, at his nearest nick, with his wife coming in afterwards to make an updated statement. First, there'd be a briefing with Inspector Ericson, to expand on what had been communicated between her team and the one at Abbotston. Robin had made it plain in a phone call to her, before they'd set off, that there were two separate cases here, of which the murder clearly took precedence.

When he'd been planning the phone call, Robin had anticipated facing some insistence that a local officer be present at Hanley's interview, given that if the roles had been reversed Robin would have wanted an ear on what was said. But in his morning briefing with Cowdrey, the boss had dropped him the word that was unlikely to happen. The Lincolnshire team were dealing with an unsolved series of sexual assaults, so a bloke getting into a violent argument with his mother a couple of years previously, with little chance of making any charge stick, wouldn't be the top of their priorities. Especially if there was a chance that the Abbotston team could hand a confession to them on a plate.

"How likely is it that Hanley's the man for this murder?" Cowdrey had asked.

Robin had started his reply with a shrug. "Fifty-fifty. He was in the general area, with no clear alibi for the time, he's got ‘previous' for assault"—Robin had suppressed a grin at recalling Isabel's use of the word—"and we've identified lies in what he told us. I'd put twenty quid on him hiding something, but whether that's attacking Mark, I couldn't say. If it turns out to be only hitting his mother—although there's no only to be applied to a case like that, is there—then at least we won't come away empty-handed."

Cowdrey had snorted. "Run the race, get the consolation prize, and that then goes to the Lincolnshire force. A rozzer's lot, eh?"

Robin replayed the conversation in his mind as he drove. Lurking deep in his psyche, partly as the result of the bullying he'd endured at primary school, was a fear of failure. That one day he'd be confronted with a case he couldn't solve, one that his name would always be associated with. And while interviewing Alex Hanley was only a small part of a bigger investigation, if they came away with nothing at all, that would hurt like hell.

"Too often the truth is the last thing people want." Adam's words again, this time from the evening before, reminding Robin that his job didn't involve finding things that were convenient or comfortable for him. Frustrating though it might feel, every time they eliminated a hypothesis, perhaps because of an unbreakable alibi, then they surely got nearer to the correct solution.

The sign for the A46 junction, where they'd need to turn off, alerted Robin to the fact he was letting his attention drift. They'd have no chance of getting at the truth if they ended up under the wheels of a lorry.

On arriving at Nettleham, where they'd be conducting the interviews, Robin and Pru completed their—extremely brief—briefing, aware that the last thing they should do was get in the way, especially as a report of yet another sexual assault had come in that morning. The anxiety to get that case solved was palpable throughout the station and much of that pressure was apparently, and naturally, coming from local media and women's groups. Pru and Robin had nothing but sympathy for their colleagues and promised not to get under their feet.

The pair grabbed a quick coffee and cleared their minds before getting to grips with Hanley. As they walked down the corridor to the interview room, Robin noticed that Pru was fighting a smile. "What's amusing you?"

"I just remembered Isabel and her cop shows. If we were on the telly, we'd do the interview and it would turn out that Alex Hanley didn't kill Mark or hit his mother. Instead, he'd be the one who's been carrying out these assaults. You'd spot the clue and leave Ericson torn between delight at solving the case and fury at the soft lot from down south having solved it."

Robin snorted. "Then I'm eternally grateful that we're not on the TV, because that would take the biscuit."

They'd reached the door of the interview room where Hanley and his solicitor would be waiting. Time for a deep breath and a real effort from Robin at getting his game face on.

They began the interview as they always did, making introductions, explaining what would happen in terms of the procedural legalities and the recording equipment, all the time being as professional as possible. No point in creating a tense atmosphere in order to pressurise the witness—most people were nervous enough at the thought of a formal interview and Hanley's pale, drawn face suggested he was already feeling the strain.

"I owe you an apology," he said, sitting forward and with a glance at his solicitor, Natalie Rednall, before Robin or Pru had been able to ask a question.

"What for?" Robin asked.

"For saying I hadn't tried to ring Mark, when I had. Stupid to lie, I know, but think of it from my point of view. He was murdered and the way it happened was similar to what happened at Skegness." The statement came over as carefully prepared, evidently with input from the solicitor, who'd nodded encouragingly. "I thought I'd look the obvious suspect."

"You looked still more obvious a suspect when we discovered the lie," Robin said. "Why have you decided to come clean now?"

"Lucy's been on my case. We've been talking about this ever since we got back from our travels, and she said I was bound to be caught out because you'd investigate his phone records."

"So, when did you ring him and how often?" Robin was pretty certain he'd get an honest answer, given Lucy's stating the obvious to her husband.

"A couple of times, a few days before he died. It was after he'd spoken to Tom but before they'd had the chance to meet in person."

That certainly accorded with what the team had discovered from the phone records. "In which case, how did you get a contact number to ring Mark? Tom said he hadn't passed on to you the one he had."

"I'm rather ashamed about that." Alex fixed his eyes on the table. "I was round at Tom's, after he'd rung me about this new family member we were supposed to have. He was pleased as punch at making contact with his great-nephew, but I wanted to find out all I could about the bloke, because you never know these days if people are who they say they are. Tom always insists on making a cup of tea or providing a slice of cake for any of his visitors, so when he was out of the room doing host duty, I had a shufti in his address book. I know that's where he's always kept any contact details, because he doesn't trust having them solely on his phone, so I only had to turn to the B section and there Mark's number was, for me to make a note of. Tom's going to be cross with me when he finds out."

"So, when we met outside Oxford, your wife insisted you hadn't had any contact with Mark. Why?" Robin asked.

Alex put his head in his hands. "She was protecting me, as usual. Lucy didn't know about the first time I'd spoken to him until I fessed up. She went flipping mental that I'd been keeping something so important secret from her. Especially given all the fuss I've made about Mum not telling me about Eleanor. Like mother like son, Lucy said. Actually, she said a lot else besides but that's the only repeatable bit if it's going on the tape." He raised his head and grinned sheepishly.

"Seems like a lot of anger breaking out," Pru said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You wanted to know about Eleanor. That's understandable. But were you ashamed of having an illegitimate half sibling?"

Alex, sitting back, shrugged. "I was torn in two. On the one hand I wanted to know all about her and on the other I wanted nothing to do with that side of things. One of the reasons I told Mark to leave the family alone was to buy me some thinking time. I tried taking the angle that Tom was old-fashioned, that he'd only been being polite when Mark made contact but that the rest of the family didn't want interference."

"Interference?" Pru's tones were less objective now. "He had as much right to be told the truth as you did."

"That's what he said." Alex leaned forward again, elbows on the table. "And, you know, that's what really bugged me. That Mark turns up out of the blue and Tom's overjoyed—like it's his long-lost son—and he's ready to spill the beans. It felt like everyone was suddenly bending over backwards to tell him what they hadn't been prepared to tell me over all those years. Yes, I know that's probably an exaggeration because Tom's maybe not told Mark anything other than he's told me, but the timings hurt."

Robin cut in. "Hurt enough to get into an argument with Mark?"

"No. Not face-to-face. That's one of the reasons I extended our holiday—easy to do that when you're self-employed—to make sure I wasn't around when Mark came up to visit. It never occurred to me that his trip might not happen. Tom's still upset about the whole business, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's worked out I tried to put Mark off. He's not stupid, although he's too much of a gentleman to mention it. Not inherited the fiery genes."

Maybe Mark had, though, which had got him into a fatal argument.

"He might have figured it out, or Mark could have rung him after your phone call and told him." Robin recalled forming the impression that Tom and Alex didn't get on that well. Was that entirely due to the business with Mark or the latest manifestation of something longer standing? Maybe tension had arisen between uncle and nephew if Tom suspected Alex had played a role in Moira's fall and her subsequent deterioration. It might have been logical for Isabel to have aired her suspicions to her old friend's brother.

Alex shrugged again. "I wouldn't have put it past him."

Robin was struck with an idea. "When did you last see Tom?"

"Not since before we went on holiday, that time when he went for cake and I got Mark's number. I've been keeping my head down with him, especially after the murder." Alex frowned. "Lucy's seen him, because she went to visit him in hospital the day before yesterday. Did you know he'd had a fall?"

"Yes." Robin studied Alex carefully. "Although not as serious as your mum's by the sound of it. I hope he doesn't go downhill as rapidly."

Alex, who'd winced at the mention of his mother, nodded. "Please God."

Pru, who'd shot Robin a quizzical glance at his question about Tom and would no doubt grill him about it later, asked, "You've said how angry you've been at your family keeping secrets from you. Was Eleanor and all the mystery around her the only reason you got angry with your mum, or was it also the fact she'd been standing up for this gay bloke and might have brought shame on the family because of that as well?"

"What gay bloke?" Alex glanced at Ms. Rednall, getting a shrug and a shake of the head in response. It appeared to be genuine surprise on his part, but he'd had enough time in advance of this interview to prepare and practice his answers. Although given that he'd clearly come today with his strategy planned—evidently with his solicitor's endorsement of it, given how little she was reacting—then this part of the tale had either been omitted from that planning or really did come as a shock.

"The bloke she stood up as character witness for in court, when he'd been caught cottaging," Pru said. "Graham. We don't have his surname. He was a big pal of Isabel and your mum, around the time she fell pregnant with Eleanor. He stepped up and offered to marry Moira, so the baby would be legitimate, but she refused."

"I had no idea about any of this." Alex looked from Pru to Robin to Ms. Rednall and back again. His start at the word cottaging appeared to be one of surprise rather than disgust. "So, she could have saved face with a sham marriage, although I suppose in that case I might not have happened. Nobody's ever told me this story."

"Not even Isabel?" Pru asked, with deceptive sweetness. She'd caught many a witness out with her softly-softly approach. "She knows all about it, obviously, as she also offered to be a character witness."

"She knows all about a lot of things which she hasn't seen fit to tell me." Alex's cheeks suddenly burned; they'd clearly hit the sore point again. "Anyway, what's any of this to do with Mark?"

Pru smiled. "I'd have thought it's all relevant to Mark, given that your mother's the point of connection between the two of you. She knew about your altercation at Skegness, didn't she, when you went to visit her that time she had her stroke?"

"I ..." Alex paused, no doubt weighing up whether to reply.

Pru pressed on. "I'm sure you did, although you forgot to reckon with Isabel going round and telling her old friend everything she'd discovered."

Alex turned to his solicitor, eyebrow raised. She nodded, then mouthed what seemed to be, If you're sure.

If Robin had been like some of his older colleagues and inclined to bet at the drop of a hat, he'd have had a tenner on another confession coming, although only a couple of quid on what Alex would put his hands up for.

Alex said, "This is going to look bad for me again. I've been worried that you'd ask about Mum's fall, and I've decided I should be open about what happened. Ms. Rednall agrees. You don't need to caution me, because I know what I'm doing."

Robin glanced at the solicitor, then back at the suspect. "I'm going to caution you, anyway, for your own protection."

After the official words had been said, Alex took a deep breath. "Fact is, this has been preying on my mind for too long. I'd managed to put it on the back burner, but this business with Mark had made it flare up again. I've barely slept a wink since we met in Oxford."

Robin had already noted the bags under the suspect's eyes. "We're listening."

"That last time I visited Mum at her house, she was furious with me. About the fact I'd got into a fight and that she'd had to hear about it from Isabel, not directly from me. Mum could easily have rung me as soon as she'd heard from Blabbermouth but, no, she didn't. So by the time I arrived at her house, she'd got herself totally wound up."

Robin raised his hand. "Can we get the exact chain of events clear, because previously you told us that you went round to your mum's to discuss Eleanor, rather than the assault, and you didn't actually talk to her because she didn't answer the door. You went in and found her on the floor, in need of medical help, so how could she have been angry with you face-to-face?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because I got there earlier than I said. I rang the bell, Mum answered the door, and I was still on the step when she started to give me a mouthful about Skegness. How I'd brought the family into disgrace, which was a bit rich, given her history and what I'd come to talk to her about. Especially with what I've learned today about standing up for this bloke in court. I mean, don't get me wrong, one of my best friends is gay—live and let live, I say—but back then it would have caused a scandal."

Robin let the remark go, even if his experience had taught him that variations on Some of my best friends are ... never boded well. He asked, "Did you throw that bit about family disgrace back in her face?"

"Yes. At which point she went ballistic. Said she'd had the decency to make sure she'd preserved the McKay reputation, which I didn't really believe. I think she didn't want to be stuck with a baby." Alex's head was back in his hands again. "The argument grew and grew, because I was angry about a lot of things by then and not just her failing to tell me about my sister. For Mum not being interested in what had happened to Eleanor, for a start. Anyway, it developed into a slanging match because she didn't hold back, either. Two hot-headed people in a room is a recipe for disaster."

Two hot-headed people in Kings Ride Woods as well? If, as it appeared, Alex had inherited his angry nature from his mother, had it also passed down from her to Mark?

Robin kept his voice calm. "A recipe for disaster? What happened?"

Alex lifted his head. "I really don't know for sure, because I was so angry I almost blanked out of things. As far as I can remember, she came at me and started pummelling me with her fists, so I pushed her away. She fell, hit her head on the edge of a table, and was knocked out cold. If she'd fallen a foot to the left or right, she'd have been fine. I swear the rest is exactly as I already told you—I tried to give her first aid and then rang for an ambulance when I realised how serious things were." His voice carried genuine notes of affection and regret. "I never meant to hurt her. Not physically, anyway—I only meant my words to sting. But all the time she was punching me I kept thinking how a mother shouldn't do that to her son."

Robin could envisage the scene, hurt piled on hurt, Alex's sense of being rejected. Not that he condoned violence, but he saw how such a situation could escalate and actions be taken that would never happen otherwise.

"Did your mother tell anyone you'd pushed her?" Pru asked.

"No. She's never mentioned it to me, afterwards, and I assumed she'd forgotten all about it, because the stroke or the dementia had taken away that part of her memory. Maybe she'd shut it out of her brain because she was embarrassed at hitting me. Knowing her character so well, I could perhaps see her taking the incident as some kind of punishment, either for not telling me all the facts or for abandoning her child in the first place. Despite all the stuff Mum's said to Tom about not wanting to get in contact with her other child and it being better that my half sister was adopted, I think she carries a deep-down remorse about Eleanor."

"She's told you that?"

Alex shrugged. "Only since she started to lose her faculties. It's as though the barriers she's kept up have now fallen, so when I visit her she sometimes mentions Eleanor, although I have no idea whether what's she's telling me about her feelings is truth or more lies. Which doesn't help my emotions."

That could certainly explain why Lucy had been trying to deflect and defuse the discussion at Oxford. It would be understandable for anyone to want to protect their loved one. Maybe it was time for Robin to calm the situation, given how the witness was flushing again.

"Mr. Hanley. Alex," Robin said. "Take a moment to compose yourself, because we do need to discuss Mark's murder, and it won't help either of us if you get into a state."

Alex flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks, but I'll be okay. That's the worst over and done with as far as I'm concerned."

Robin had the disappointing feeling that could be true, but Alex had misled them before and might do again. He turned to Pru. "Sergeant Davis, you wanted to talk to Mr. Hanley about Timsworth."

With a nod, Pru said, "We've checked your alibi and can't turn up any evidence to support what you and your wife told us. No CCTV at the car park, I'm afraid, and the volunteers at the abbey don't remember anyone kicking up a fuss that day about not paying a voluntary contribution. In fact, they're very laid-back about it."

"Oh hell, this is another backtracking, isn't it?" Alex's expression was more embarrassed than belligerent. "Lucy and I did make a donation—the woman we met doing the welcoming was bloody scary and I wouldn't have dared not to."

Pru snorted. "So why on earth did you tell Mr. Bright that you hadn't?"

"This is where I'll come over as a total twat. You see, I recently made a post on social media about how wrong it was to have to pay to go into certain places that should be free to enter. I was sure you'd find that and spot a discrepancy if I told what had really happened. I overthought it and you caught us out, anyway."

"You do get yourself mixed up about what's truth and what's a lie, don't you?" Pru asked, with a hint of amusement. "A good prosecuting brief would tie you in knots."

"Yeah, well, I'm an idiot, as Miss—sorry, Ms. Rednall knows. But I swear to God I didn't meet up with Mark on that Saturday or any other day. First time we talked on the phone I was only after information, but I didn't get it because he didn't have much to say. He started grilling me about my son and other family stuff, just so he could fill out his family tree. I refused to tell him anything and he rang off in a huff. I was going to leave it at that until he'd seen Tom and they'd done whatever tests they wanted to do, but things festered. To the point that a couple of days later I rang him to tell him to keep away from my side of the family. I was going to be calm and only tell him he was making us uncomfortable by being so persistent when we didn't really know if he was family. A few weeks or whatever it takes to do a test wouldn't have made a scrap of difference."

Except that delay had made all the difference in the world to Mark. As the suspect paused to take a sip of water, Pru filled in the obvious blanks. "But the phone conversation between you got heated?"

"Yes. I told him to back off entirely, not just from me but from Tom as well. Only I didn't put it so politely. He said I was lying about Tom, that talking to his great-uncle had been the best thing that had happened to him in ages. How Tom was so welcoming, how it was great to have a proper family again, and how he wasn't going to let me get in the way of that."

Pru pounced on the admission. "Did that happen over the phone or was it part of the conversation between you and Mark in Kings Ride Woods?"

Alex flinched. "Sorry?"

"If Mark was so determined to connect with his newly discovered family and had heard you were in the area, I bet he asked to meet up with you before he headed off to see Tom. Perhaps he said it was to ensure he'd be prepared for that interview." The point hadn't arisen before—trust Pru to make such a sensible leap of logic. An accurate one, to boot, if Alex's uncomfortable expression was anything to go by.

"He did ask to meet, and I told him where to get off."

"Really? You didn't decide it would be easier to give in and have that meeting so he'd stop pestering you?" Pru in action, trying to get to the truth, was an impressive sight. "A meeting at which you yet again got into an argument. Maybe he hurled some insults at your mother, perhaps because of abandoning his mother. Things got heated between you, like they did between you and your mum."

"I told you, I was never in those woods." Alex was sitting forward again, hands drumming the table. "Okay, you're right when you said he wanted to meet up. That was part of what we quarrelled about on the phone, because he was like a dog with a bone and wouldn't let go. I refused to connect in person, and you must have guessed why I didn't want to. After Skegness and then Mum, I've been dealing with my anger issues and I'm not losing it as much as I used to, but I'm still what Lucy calls a work in progress. I couldn't have trusted myself to be in the same room as Mark. Not until I knew what was what."

The subtle changes in Hanley's body language that Robin had been noting throughout the interview—the man leaning forward every time he was making a confession—suggested that this was the truth continuing to emerge. A man who recognised his own capacity for violence trying to avoid another incident. "Would Mark settle for that answer? Did Lucy go to meet him instead?"

"Lucy?" Alex raised an eyebrow. "No. She was with me in Timsworth."

"Which we still can't verify," Robin reminded him. "Can I clarify something? Her father was a policeman, wasn't he?"

"Yes. As she told that young constable of yours when he rang to bother her about the fact. Neither of us could work out why it was so important. Neither can Ms. Rednall."

Robin addressed his reply to both suspect and solicitor. "We simply wanted to know because Mark was killed by a blow from a blunt instrument, similar to a truncheon, and they're not that common."

"It wasn't Lucy's dad's. She hasn't seen it since he retired from the force." Alex took a deep breath and blew out his cheeks. "I've been upfront with you today. I swear every word I've spoken in here has been the truth. I may have been losing sleep over what happened with Mum, but I've nothing to regret where Mark was concerned. I didn't hurt him and neither did Lucy."

Ms. Rednall cut in. "Timsworth. Tell them about the twenty-pound note."

"Oh, yeah. Good job I've got you here or I would have forgotten. Again. Lucy reminded me that we'd picked up two takeaway coffees in Timsworth, after we got out of the abbey. It was at a little place, on the way back to the car park near Waitrose, name of Teapots or something. We paid cash, as we usually do, and by mistake nearly tried to use an old note. Lucy must have had it lurking in her purse since lock down. The young lad taking the order made a joke about how we weren't the first people to get mixed up, so he might remember us."

Robin suppressed a growl. "Why on earth didn't you tell us this before?"

"We thought you'd done with us, after we made our statements. You didn't get back in touch, so ..." Alex spread his hands.

"I sincerely hope we have done with you." Robin got his papers—such as they were—together.

"I'm going to stay while you talk to Mrs. Hanley," the solicitor said, "even though I've been told she's not under caution."

Robin smiled sweetly. "That's fine by us. Mr. Hanley, we'll give the local officers your confession about pushing your mother. They can deal with it as they see fit." It wouldn't hurt to let the bloke sweat a bit, despite the fact that Robin couldn't see the case proceeding. "I'm going to take a comfort break and we'll see Lucy in ten minutes."

Robin met Pru as they emerged from their respective toilets.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I have an awful feeling he's come clean at last. The solicitor must have worked on him, and I don't suppose that was merely an overnight thing."

"That's the impression I got too. Perhaps she represented him for the Skegness business and he might have had her lined up if the locals came knocking about his mum." Pru rummaged in her bag for some hand cream. "I notice you asked about when he last saw Tom. Any particular reason?"

Robin sniffed. "Have a guess."

"Okay. I should know how your mind works by now. Another older relative, one who's at odds with Alex, has a fall. Was Tom pushed by his nephew?"

"Yep. I didn't think it was likely, because I bet Tom would have reported him, at least to his neighbour if not to us. I couldn't have gone home with the question unasked, though. And in a strange way—while I don't think Alex is guilty of anything other than hitting his mum and being generally an idiot—it would have been good if Alex had pushed Tom, because we'd have had a chance of pinning it on him."

"You really don't like Alex Hanley, do you, sir?"

"He rankles with me. I don't think he deliberately hurt his mother, and I've no doubt he regrets it, but ..." The man had an air of the bullies who'd blighted Robin's schooldays, although that could have applied to a number of the suspects Robin met. "Right. Lucy. There's no longer a need to press her about Alex and his mother or the phone calls to Mark. Just cross the t's on those bits."

"Agreed, sir. I'd still like to cover whether she met Mark in her husband's stead. As you say, can't go home with the question unasked."

"Then let's go and ask it."

As Ms. Rednall emerged, they scooped her up to go to the other interview room. Robin hoped she wouldn't insist on having some time alone with her client, so that he could ensure Lucy didn't know her husband had confessed to the fight with his mother. His hopes were realised.

The interview with Lucy proved fairly perfunctory, compared to her husband's. She trotted out much the same as Alex had about contact with Mark, but with enough of a difference to suggest she wasn't reading a pre-learned script. She confirmed the donation at the abbey, the story of the dodgy note, and the fact that her husband was an idiot at times.

"An idiot with a temper?"

Lucy nodded. "He got that off his mother, because his dad was as meek as a lamb. He's doing anger management and it helps, but you can't change overnight, especially when things come back to rile you again. That's why we were both so edgy when you interviewed us before. Nothing to do with Mark and everything to do with Moira's stroke. If it hadn't been for that, we'd have remembered the café and paying for the coffees, but I was so stressed my mind blanked."

"Moira's stroke?" Robin asked, insouciantly.

"I assume Alex has told you?" Lucy studied him and Pru, then nodded. "He has. The silly sod's tormented himself long enough about it and he's been tossing and turning in bed so much the last few nights I said he should put on his big boy's pants and come clean. Because I'd rather deal with the consequences than see him make himself ill with remorse."

That was plausible, helping to explain why Alex had confessed so readily. Robin asked, "One last thing, then. Back to Mark. Alex says he refused to meet him. Did you speak to him, instead?"

"Not in person." Lucy fingered her bottom lip. "The second time Alex rang him, I could hear him getting agitated, so I grabbed the phone and tried to calm things down, because Mark was angry too. Asked him for a bit of consideration because the news about Eleanor had come as a shock."

"What did Mark say to that?"

Lucy winced. "Less said than shouted. Told me that if anybody was due consideration it was him because he was sick of finding out he'd not been told the truth. People were lying to him on all sides. He said a lot of swear words in amongst it, so I won't quote him. Anyway, after he'd vented, he rang off and we didn't speak again."

Robin and Pru shared a glance. "Not been told the truth"? Was that a reference to Suzy's affairs and did the solution to this mystery lie with one of her ex—and maybe not so ex—boyfriends?