Tamara was surprised. "What would you expect, Mr Rowe?"
"Police officers are like middle managers these days," he said. "Mind you, maybe you're dressed like they do in the offices of these new tech-based businesses. They're not bothered about convention either." His speech became halting, as if he was struggling to catch his breath. "You'd better come in, if you want to speak to me."
He turned and began the slow shuffle back into the interior, leaving Tamara to push the door open. She glanced at Cassie as they entered.
"What's wrong with how I dress?"
Cassie smiled but didn't comment. Of all the things ever said to her by witnesses, suspects or criminals, no one had ever mentioned her choice of clothing before. They followed Rowe into his living room. Tamara was right, she could see a bedroom and bathroom off the entrance hall and a small kitchenette was attached to the one reception room overlooking the garden.
She waited patiently for him to ease himself back into his armchair. He offered them both a seat, there was a choice of another faded green corduroy recliner or a wooden chair pushed under a small round table. Cassie chose to remain standing and Tamara perched herself on the recliner next to their host. Now that she had more than the narrow gap to view him, she took in his measure. He was indeed very tall and thin. His hair was thin and combed over in a classic attempt to hide his baldness but it was so obvious as to be comical. His skin tone was pale across all visible parts of his body, with some dark brown patches on his forehead and the backs of his hands. They could be natural and formed from birth but he may have spent a lot of time in the sun. The tips of his fingers were blue which was a symptom she'd never come across aside from someone suffering from acute frostbite.
"Mr Rowe, we're investi—"
He held up his hand, his brow furrowing as he reached down to the left of his chair. There was a large magazine holder next to him and between that and the chair Tamara caught sight of some transparent plastic tubes. Rowe pulled up an oxygen mask, placing it across his mouth and nose and drawing deeply. Tamara saw the tubes connected to a canister similar in size to a domestic kitchen fire extinguisher. After a few moments, Rowe released the mask from his face and placed it in his lap. His eyelids fluttered and his expression softened.
"What can I do for you, Detective?"
"We're investigating a murder, Mr Rowe, and thought you might be able to help."
"I don't think I'm… in a condition to kill anyone," he said, smiling weakly and still struggling to breathe. "Should I be under caution?"
"Not unless you think it's necessary, Mr Rowe. We're here looking at background."
"I see. You can't blame me for checking."
Tamara couldn't help but think he appeared older than his years. The notion that he had somehow overpowered or attacked Adrian Gage was fanciful.
"How well do you know Adrian Gage?"
"Well enough," he snorted. "Better than I wish to, let's say that. Why do you ask?"
"Mr Gage has been murdered."
Rowe stared straight into Tamara's eye, without blinking, he held her gaze.
"Stuck his nose into the wrong person's affairs, did he?"
"What makes you say that Mr Rowe?" Tamara asked, keeping her tone neutral.
"That's what he does, isn't it? Sticks his nose in, roots around and flings as much dirt as possible to get maximum attention."
"He was an investigative journalist."
"And a damn good one," Rowe said, wagging a finger at her pointedly. It was a comment conveying a sense of admiration which she found odd. Judging by the look on Cassie's face, it hadn't gone unnoticed with her either. "What? I'm not allowed to show him respect for his work?"
"You lost a lot because of Gage and his work," Tamara said.
"And I deserved everything that came my way, young lady." Rowe placed his hands together in his lap, interlocking his fingers. "He caught me bang to rights. Fair’s fair."
"You don't hold a grudge?"
Rowe laughed, a sound that was interrupted by a gasp for breath only to then morph into a hacking cough. He reached for his oxygen mask again, drawing heavily on it and waving away Tamara's concerns as she tried to find out if he was all right. He gathered himself together after a few seconds, exhaling with a sigh.
"Lots of grudges," he said quietly. "As a result of his work I lost everything. My business, my wife and ultimately my liberty! If he's dead… don't ask me to shed a tear for him. Because I won't. It doesn't mean I wanted to see him dead, mind you. I appreciate life more these days." He held his oxygen mask in the air in front of him, nodding to it. "Believe me."
"The investigation into your business took place six or seven years ago. Can you think of any reason why Mr Gage would be looking into you or your affairs more recently?"
"As a matter of fact, he came to see me."
Tamara and Cassie exchanged a glance, Tamara thinking hard.
"Why would he do that?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.
Rowe shook his head. "He said it was for a follow-up story. To see where things ended up a few years down the line but, to be honest, I don't think there was any mileage in it."
"Why not?"
"Convicted fraudster serves his time and comes out to die alone in mediocre, albeit friendly, sheltered housing… not much interest… in that story, I should imagine."
"When did he visit you?"
Rowe thought about it. "It's hard. The days seem to merge into one another since I've been here. It was recent, though. Two or three weeks ago, perhaps."
"And he wanted to interview
