Breaker

Sumner didn't answer.

'You must have thought you'd got yourself a good bargain at the beginning. A pretty wife who worshipped the ground you trod on. All right, you didn't have much in common with her, and fatherhood left a lot to be desired, but all in all, life was rosy. The sex was good, you had a mortgage you could afford, the journey to work was a doddle, your mother was keeping tabs on your wife during the day, your supper was on the table when you came home of an evening, and you were free to go sailing whenever you wanted.' He paused. 'Then you moved to Lymington, and things started to turn sour. I'm guessing Kate grew less and less interested in keeping you happy because she didn't need to pretend anymore. She'd got what she wanted-no more supervision from her mother-in-law ... a house of her own ... respectability-all of which gave her the confidence to make a life for herself and Hannah which didn't include you.' He eyed the other man curiously. 'And suddenly it was your turn to be taken for granted. Is that when you began to suspect Hannah wasn't yours?'

Sumner surprised him by laughing. 'I've known since she was a few weeks old that she couldn't possibly be mine. Kate and I are blood group O, and Hannah's blood group A. That means her father has to be either blood group A or AB. I'm not a fool. I married a pregnant woman, and I had no illusions about her, whatever you or my mother may think.'

'Did you challenge Kate with it?'

Sumner pressed a finger to his fluttering lid. 'It was hardly a challenge. I just showed her an Exclusions of Paternity table on the ABO system and explained how two blood group O parents can only produce a group O child. She was shocked to have been found out so easily, but as my only purpose in doing it was to show her I wasn't as gullible as she seemed to think I was, it never became an issue between us. I had no problem acknowledging Hannah as mine, which is all Kate wanted.'

'Did she tell you who the father was?'

He shook his head. 'I didn't want to know. I assume it's someone I work with-or have worked with-but as she broke all contact with Pharmatec after she left, except for the odd visit from Polly Garrard, I knew the father didn't figure in her life anymore.' He stroked the arm of his chair. 'You probably won't believe me, but I couldn't see the point of getting hot under the collar about someone who had become an irrelevance.'

He was right. Galbraith didn't believe him. 'Presumably the fact that Hannah isn't your child explains your lack of interest in her?'

Once again the man didn't answer, and a silence lengthened between them.

'Tell me what went wrong when you moved to Lymington,' Galbraith said then.

'Nothing went wrong.'

'So you're saying that from day one'-he emphasized the word-'marriage was like living with a landlady? That's a pretty unattractive proposition, isn't it?'

'It depends what you want,' said Sumner. 'Anyway, how would you describe a woman whose idea of an intellectual challenge was to watch a soap opera, who had no taste in anything, was so houseproud that she believed cleanliness was next to godliness, preferred overcooked sausages and baked beans to rare steak, and accounted voluntarily for every damn penny that either of us ever spent?'

There was a rough edge to his voice, which to Galbraith's ears sounded more like guilt at exposing his wife's shortcomings than bitterness that she'd had them, and he had the impression that William couldn't make up his mind if he'd loved his wife or loathed her. But whether that made him guilty of her murder, Galbraith didn't know.

'If you despised her to that extent, why did you marry her?'

Sumner rested his head against the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling. 'Because the quid pro quo for helping her out of the hole she'd dug for herself was sex whenever I wanted it.' He turned to look at Galbraith, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. 'That's all I was interested in. That's all any man's interested in. Isn't it? Sex on tap. Kate would have sucked me off twenty times a day if I'd told her to, just so long as I kept acknowledging Hannah as my daughter.' The memory brought him little pleasure, apparently, because tears streamed in murky rivers down his cheeks while his uncontrollable lid winked ... and winked...

It was an hour and a half before Ingram returned to Broxton House, carrying something wrapped in layers of cling film. Maggie saw him pass the kitchen window and went through the scullery to let him in. He was soaked to the skin and supported himself against the doorjamb, head hanging in exhaustion.

'Did you find anything?' she asked him.

He nodded, lifting the bundle. 'I need to make a phone call, but I don't want to drip all over your mother's floor. I presume you were carrying your mobile this morning, so can I borrow it?'

'Sorry, I wasn't. So no. I got it free two years ago in return for a year's rental, but it was so bloody expensive I declined to renew my subscription and I haven't used it in twelve months. It's in the flat somewhere.' She held the door wide. 'You'd better come in. There's an extension in the kitchen, and the quarry tiles won't hurt for getting water on them.' Her lips gave a brief twitch. 'They might even benefit. I dread to think when they last saw a mop.'

He padded after her, his shoes squelching as he walked. 'How did you phone me this morning if you didn't have a mobile?'

'I used Steve's,' she said, pointing to a Philips GSM on the kitchen table.

He pushed it to one side with the back of his finger and placed the cling film bundle beside it. 'What's it doing here?'

'I put it in my pocket and forgot about it,' she said. 'I only remembered it when it started ringing. It's rung five times since you left.'

'Have you answered it?'

'No. I thought you could deal with it when you came back.'

He moved across to the wall telephone and lifted it off its bracket. 'You're very trusting,' he murmured, punching in the number of the Kate Sumner incident room. 'Supposing I'd decided to let you and your mother stew in your own juices for a bit?'