himself to his feet. ‘I’d better be off and do it.’
He shook his head as he and Skinner reached the door. ‘Christ, and I let you buy the beer too. Wrong of me, that: I’m going to make a fucking fortune. Every newspaper in Britain will take this copy.’
20
‘Thank heaven you’re back, Pops. Jazz has me run off my feet, and young Mark has me mentally exhausted. He’s way too smart for me. I’ve spent half the day giving him a rundown on what lawyers actually do, and the other half trying to keep pace with him at his computer games.’
Alex gazed at her father and her fiance as they stood in the doorway of the kitchen. ‘Where the hell have you guys been anyway? It’s ten past seven. If you were golfing, you might have mentioned it before you left this morning.’
Martin shook his head. ‘I wish we had been, love. You say you’re puggled? What a day we’ve had. Since you’re asking what we’ve been doing, you obviously haven’t been listening to the news bulletins.’
‘No.’
‘Take her away and explain what we’ve been up to,’ said Bob. ‘I’ll make us all some coffee.’
‘You can make supper for the boys too,’ his daughter told him. ‘I’ve done my big-sister bit.
‘Where’s Sarah anyway?’ She shot over her shoulder from the doorway as Martin led her off to the living room. ‘How long’s a post-mortem supposed to take?’
‘I reckon that Sarah’s having a busy day too.’ There was a weariness in Skinner’s voice which made her look at him, suddenly concerned.
‘What is this, Andy?’ he heard her say, as she disappeared into the hall.
Forgetting about coffee for the moment, he prepared supper for the boys . . . pizza for Mark, mashed-down stew, peas, carrots and gravy for Jazz . . . then set it at the kitchen table. By the time he had helped his younger son spoon the last of his custard dessert into his hungry mouth, wiped his face, and seen both boys off to bed, the digital clock on the microwave showed four minutes past eight.
Deciding that coffee was by now completely inappropriate, he opened a bottle of Valdepenas, and took it through to the conservatory with three goblets, which he found with some difficulty in the new kitchen lay-out.
Alex looked up at him as he set the glasses on the table and poured the wine. ‘Now I understand why you’re tired.’
‘We’ve just looked at the teletext,’ said Andy. ‘Old John’s done the business. We’re closing in on the killer, you’ll be glad to hear.’
Skinner shot him a wry look. ‘Aye, but closing in very slowly. It’s a bugger about those footprints, turning out to be Clark’s shoes; only one of the most popular brands in the country, that’s all. Practically every independent shoe shop stocks them, not to mention the firm’s own outlets.’
Alex frowned as she picked up her glass, and as her father sat in a chair beside her, the three of them looked out at the evening seascape. ‘Pardon me for thinking like a lawyer, but since the shoes are so common, doesn’t that reopen the possibility of there being two killers, and of their being unconnected?’
Bob laughed, harshly and without humour. ‘That’s the only break we’ve had all day. Arthur’s lot found a wee piece of mud on the roof, which he’s certain we’ll match with Hannah’s garden.’
‘No, not the only break,’ Andy cut in. ‘We recovered the bullet.’
‘Not the casing, though. No way this guy would have left that behind.’
‘Still, we can learn things from the bullet. If the ballistics guys can give us a clue about the type of weapon which fires it, we can go round the rifle clubs looking for a match.’ ‘Even if they don’t, I’ll look for a match with every registered rifle in the country.’ Bob sighed, a great tired sigh. ‘And you know what? I won’t find one. This man killed the Bennetts to cover his tracks, not to give himself away. He’ll have used an unregistered weapon.’
‘Hey,’ Alex burst out, ‘what happened to Mr Positive Thinking?’
‘He’s had a hard day!’
‘But, Pops, are unlicensed guns so easy to come by?’
Her father snorted, disdainfully. ‘Christ, lass, Ireland’s still awash with guns. Apart from that, you should see what gets handed in every time we have a firearms amnesty.
‘Still, you’re right to throw my own words back at me. I’ve been tearing about for so long today, I haven’t had time to sit down and think.’
‘Why?’ Martin asked softly.
‘Eh?’
‘No, not “Why have you been tearing about?” This is the “why?” we haven’t asked. Why did he decide to close off the Bennetts, now, at this time?’
‘I guess he decided that what happened in Galashiels might persuade them to talk after all.’
‘That risk’s always been there, to an extent. No, what if he learned that I’d been to see Nathan, and that he’d been a bit wobbly?’
‘How would he learn that?’
‘I can think of two possibilities: the prison escorts.’
Bob stiffened slightly in his chair. ‘They were in the room when you interviewed him?’
‘That’s right. One of them was awkward about leaving, so I let them stay.’
For the first time that evening, Bob smiled. ‘Looks like you’re working again tomorrow, son.’
He reached forward and picked up his glass, but before he could put it to his lips, a slim tanned hand reached down and took it from him.
‘My need is greater, believe me.’
He looked up. Sarah was standing there, in a sweatshirt and jeans. She looked as tired as he had ever seen her.
‘Hello, love. How long have you been home? We never heard you.’
‘About five minutes,’ she answered. ‘I looked in on the boys, then I just had to get out of the clothes I was wearing.’
He reached up and touched the back of her hand.
‘Careful, honey,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t want to know where that’s been today!’
He grinned and headed off to the kitchen to fetch another glass. ‘You’d better bring another bottle,’ she called after him. ‘Dinner can wait for an hour.’
When he returned she had pulled a swivel chair between his and the settee on which Alex and Andy sat, and had collapsed into it, her legs stretching out before her. He poured himself a glass of wine and finished off the first bottle by topping up everyone else.
‘Well,’ Sarah chuckled, ‘sounds as if we’ve all had hellish days, one way or another.’ She glanced sideways at Bob. ‘Sorry, husband, but you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow for Nathan Bennett.
‘We just didn’t have time to start on him today. Our first job took a long time, so we didn’t finish with Hannah until an hour ago. I’ll be assisting again tomorrow.’
‘Dammit,’ Bob muttered. ‘Still, I sent you the stiff, so I can’t really moan. Did you turn up anything unexpected with Hannah?’
‘Nothing at all. No skin under the nails or anything like that. No sexual interference, or recent sexual activity. Death caused, as you saw, by a single knife wound to the brain. Joe had a hell of a job getting the knife out, incidentally. It was very sharp, but still it must have been a massive blow for the blade to be embedded so firmly in her skull.
‘The only marks on the body other than the one you saw was a bruise around her upper right arm, as if someone had grabbed her there too, with his left hand.’ She smiled, with a degree of self-satisfaction showing on her face.
‘Know what I think? I reckon the man was going to kill her in the kitchen.’ She sat up, swung round in her chair and seized Bob’s right arm in her left hand. ‘I reckon he grabbed her like that, and took the knife from the set that was found on the work-surface. He made a mistake, though.
‘From her muscular development, it was clear to us that Hannah Bennett was left-handed. Remember that rolling pin in the kitchen?’ Bob and Andy both nodded. ‘I’m sure Arthur Dorward was spot on. She picked it up with
