Chapter Nineteen

Robin got home not long after Adam, although he wasn't wearing as big a grin as might have been anticipated, given the earlier message he'd sent about cracking the case.

"Got the pair of them bang to rights?" Adam asked, once he and his husband had shared a hug, a kiss, and a fuss of Hamish, who clearly didn't want to be left out of the fun.

"I hope so. They're remanded in custody while we search the house for the murder weapon and anything else that will help tie up all the loose ends." Robin ran his hands through his already messy hair. "We'll charge them tomorrow if we can pin down whether it's manslaughter or murder."

"Is that still in doubt?"

"Striking the blow itself, no. We've got two confessions, although they can be revoked. Mind you, if that happened, we've got a witness who's identified them in a lineup and various other bits of evidence coming together, such as Mark's suitcases in their loft. I'd like some further forensics for the CPS, let alone to convince a jury, in case they plead not guilty. It all hinges on whether it was self-defence, as they claim, or intentional, which is what I'm leaning towards." Robin snorted. "This'll make you wince. Izzy Packer says she hit Mark with a rolling pin that she routinely carried for self-defence. We've sent off every one of them from their kitchen for testing. It's enough to put me off homemade pastry for life."

"All the more for me and Hamish, then." However, Adam could tell that this was no joke. Something in the case continued to eat at his husband. "I have known women to put pepper sprays or an innocent-seeming item like a small, sharp pair of scissors in their bags so they can ward off an assailant, but I've never heard of carrying a rolling pin."

"Yeah. Doesn't ring true, does it? It's the bit about their gloves, though. They must have worn them when they drove his car, and we caught her out about it." Robin raised his hand. "I know, that'll sound like gobbledegook. Let me get changed and I'll tell you everything. It'll make better sense to me then."

"Glad to be of assistance."

Over dinner, with Hamish gently snoring near Robin's feet, Adam was given the fuller picture, meaning that everything, including the point about the gloves, eventually did make sense as promised. They'd reached Izzy Packer reverting to her "No comment" position before they broke off to head into the lounge for a drink of beer and a stretch on the settees.

"Where had we got up to?" Robin asked, as he made himself comfortable.

"You'd stunned Mrs. into silence and were heading to get a new statement from Mr."

"Okay. So off we went again, like we were on elastic between the two rooms. When we let Justin know that his wife had told us what had happened, he must have known the game was up, at least to some extent: neither of them would tell us the truth about the gloves. Then I had one of my bright ideas. Yes, almost as bright as one of yours when food's involved," Robin added, with a tickle under the dog's chin.

"Your dad can't resist a pun, Hamish."

"Don't listen to your other dad, boy. This was one of my crowning moments. No laughing matter, as it turned out, though." Hamish must have noticed how pale Robin had turned, given the way he snuggled closer. "I asked whether they'd found Suzy's phone among Mark's stuff. I thought Packer would simply give me an upfront yes or no, but he suddenly went to pieces. All sorts of stuff came out about the argument they'd had with Mark, which made better sense than it only being about Mark saying they'd abetted Suzy."

"I did wonder. I know people get in a spat about nothing, but that rang as untrue as the rolling-pin-in-the-handbag stuff."

"My thoughts exactly. Anyway, I'll spare you the details but Justin admitted the argument had sent him doolally."

"You reckon he struck the fatal blow?"

"I think it's possible. But before I could press him on that, he'd become so rambling I had to call a halt. All to do with keeping Suzy's phone on him all the time, so that he felt he had her." Robin shuddered, generating a pout of affront from Hamish. "Sorry, lad. Not a nice business."

Adam moved over to Robin's settee, where he lifted his husband's legs so he could sit down with them on his lap. This was the key to why Robin wasn't himself. "What happened next?"

"After I terminated the interview, I had a word with his solicitor. She was as shocked as we were at the change in him: verging on the temporarily mentally incapable, she reckoned, so it wasn't a case of compassion on our part, because anything he'd have said might have been inadmissible. That's nice," Robin added, in appreciation of Adam rubbing his legs. "I called a doctor to check him over and give him a sedative or whatever else he needs. We'll have him on watch overnight."

"That bad?"

"Yep. I guess if you've been dealing with one blow or another over all that time, it gets to you in the end. She doesn't seem so affected. Hard as old nails."

Adam sniffed. "I remember one Easter the Lindenshaw vicar at the time telling us that there was an old saying that the nails for the crucifixion were made by women blacksmiths because the male blacksmiths would have been too soft-hearted. It always struck me a bit harsh, although I guess in some instances it's perceptive."

"It is in Izzy's case." Robin stroked Hamish again. "Tell me something happy."

"Happy? Well, my new ‘bestie' Ryan is hot on the trail still. He'd messaged me, because he knows how busy you are, and we had a quick chat not long before you got home."

"I thought he was Mum's client? He must fancy you."

"If he does, it's a vain hope." Adam chuckled. "Irrespective of that, his rationale's not unreasonable. He's come across a picture of the guy from Australia whom he thinks could be your grandad."

"Lutterworth Len?" The change of subject alone was clearly raising Robin's spirits.

"Lutterworth Dave. Ryan's given me his name now, on the principle that we could do a reverse search for the picture and find the text with it. Yes, same Christian name as your dad."

"Well, what do you think of that, Hamish?" Robin probably addressed the dog because the catch in his voice might give way completely if he faced Adam. "Does Ryan have a surname for him?"

"Ingleby. David Ingleby. And he says if he's not the bloke, it's the coincidence to end all coincidences because everything matches, date-wise, name of solicitors out in Australia, and all the rest."

"And all this from the name Brown and a tax treaty?"

"Ryan's probably got some trade secrets he won't reveal, like having the nous to go looking for obituaries. That was what set him on to Ingleby in the first place: a notice about how charity donations would be preferred to flowers, to be sent via his solicitor's office. Then Ryan found this picture on another genealogy site and apparently it came with some text, that'll make sense when you see it." Adam got out his phone, although he wasn't quite ready to show the photo. "I said Ryan's rationale is understandable regarding your mum, but it applies to you, as well. See, he had some pictures of your dad that your mum gave him to help his research. He thinks there's a strong resemblance."

"Meaning he doesn't want to risk upsetting her?" Robin, looking up now, nodded. "Sensible idea. I've got you to comfort me and she's on her own."

"Yeah, that's what Ryan said. He wants all of us to be together when he feels in a position to present everything, but it the meantime, have a gander at this." Adam passed over his phone, then rubbed his husband's legs again.

"I see your point." The catch in Robin's voice was back. "I don't think I'm imagining the similarity."

"Lutterworth Dave's got a touch of you, as well. Not the bra." The photo showed a float from a carnival, obviously with a sea theme and several of the men on it dressed as mermaids. The comment Ryan had highlighted from the site made a joke about how David Ingleby was perfect for the role, given the webbing on his fingers.

"I can see that resemblance." Robin continued studying the photo and text before returning the phone. "It seems he had a good life. I hope he did. Do you think his family took the opportunity to get rid of a black sheep by sending him down under? I guess there weren't so many hoops to jump through around that time."

"Possibly. And if he was a black sheep, then it's possible that journey might have been the making of him, because he seems to have done well legitimately. There could be some element of that reflected in his providing an inheritance for his son's family."

"Eh? Not with you. Probably me being thick."

"Or me not making myself clear." Adam patted Robin's foot. "Was Lutterworth Dave showing a bit of gratitude for the fact that if he hadn't been sent packing—whether for getting your gran pregnant or whatever—he might never have made a success of himself?"

"Making the best of a bad thing?" Robin produced the kind of smile he'd not worn all evening. "That is happy. Thank you." He shifted position—much to Hamish's disapproval—to hold Adam's hand. "Do you know why the thing about Suzy's phone really got to me? Apart from seeing a suspect go to pieces."

"No. Or maybe yes." Adam jerked his free thumb in the direction of their garage.

"Yep. Campbell's lead." It still hung there, although his collar had gone with him when he'd made his last ride with a wonderfully sympathetic and professional pet undertaker. The lead was their sole memento of the big fellah. "I could never throw it away. It's all we have bar pictures and memories."

"We'll cherish them all, then." Adam squeezed his husband's hand. "We'd never let it become an obsession, would we?"

"I bloody well hope not." Robin grinned. "I think I'm pretty sane to start with, and you two keep me from going off the rails. What's so funny?"

"Robin Bright, your idea of going off the rails is a four pack of Stella Artois and back-to-back episodes of Friday Night Dinner. Don't ever change."

"I won't. Policeman's honour." Robin raised his other hand, earning another dirty look from the dog. "Given the state of certain forces, maybe that's not such a cast-iron guarantee. My honour, is that enough?"

"It was when we got married. It still is."

Hamish eyed them, such an expression of disdain on his face at their slush that they couldn't help laughing.

"I hope he never changes, either. So judgemental." Robin hugged the dog.

"Amen to that."