“I’m not sure that’s healthy,” said Suzie. “We need our space, don’t we? I try to persuade you to come riding with me, but I know it will not happen deep down. I escape for half a day, even though I don’t want to escape. Does that make sense?”
“Of course it does, darling,” said Gus. “We have common interests because of our jobs. The vast majority of people who join the police have the same values and world views. We spend a large percentage of our time involved in our particular roles within policing. Still, when we come together at home, we have a wide range of topics of conversation where our opinions differ to fill our leisure time.”
“So we’re not kindred spirits then,” said Suzie.
“When I’m around you, I feel calmer,” said Gus. “Now, that could be because my spirit has realised that you know and understand me. I remember when we first met, on the day we arrested Leonard Pemberton-Smythe. You gave me a lift back to London Road.”
“And I was rude about your Ford Focus,” said Suzie. “I told you that my Dad used to have one years ago. Yet, you still asked Geoff Mercer to call me when you needed an extra pair of eyes to check on what was going on above Cambrai Terrace.”
“You agreed to drive over,” said Gus, “and accepted my invitation to lunch. Why did I ask? I felt as if I knew you right away. As if we’d always known one another. You sat here in this room flicking through my vinyl collection that same afternoon and didn’t laugh out loud.”
“I can see where this is heading,” said Suzie. “I remember looking through those albums the other evening, and it surprised me to find you hadn’t separated them into ‘yours’ and ‘mine’. That the albums I brought with me from home were mixed in with yours gave me a warm feeling. Do you think that was what it was like for Maddy Mills and Alan Duncan?”
“I don’t know enough about the pair to comment on that yet,” said Gus, “but one thing suggests they were experts at hiding their true selves. Maddy had already hidden her past by changing her name. Alan knew nothing of that. What did you make of the collection of shoeboxes in the spare bedroom?”
“Alan would have had several pairs of trainers. He was a runner, so that’s only natural. As a cyclist, he probably had more than one pair of shoes for that pursuit, too. The boxes offered a convenient hiding place for the cash he’d withdrawn from the bank, but why do you think they were significant?”
“Maddy didn’t run; neither did she cycle, yet she didn’t complain about the clutter in that spare bedroom. When Lydia and I visited Maddy’s new home in Chippenham, it was spotless, despite their two young children.”
“Which suggests that Maddy was happy to ignore her partner’s idiosyncrasies in a quest for maintaining her anonymity.”
“I knew it, we do think alike,” grinned Gus.
“Do you know what my Mum said to me?” asked Suzie. “She took me to one side the day we went to Worton to collect my things. She wished us every happiness and was glad that I’d found my soul mate.”
“Ah, now I’m on more familiar ground,” said Gus, “because soul mates can differ from each other. Kindred spirits are birds of a feather, while soul mates are more a case of opposites attract. You referred to that earlier. I think we’re more soul mates than kindred spirits. One book I read described kindred spirits as co-conspirators. I didn’t understand what that meant until I started working on this case. Maddy and Alan both had secrets buried in their past that they would do anything to keep hidden. Something in their make-up drew them together. They interpreted the ease that existed between them as love. Maybe they should have remained friends. We know part of Maddy’s buried secret. In the days or weeks to come, I hope to discover Alan’s secret. Until we dig up full details of both, we won’t find Alan’s killer. I’m convinced of that.”
“You do have a busy time ahead of you,” said Suzie. “Why don’t we walk to the Lamb and eat there tonight?”
“That sounds a plan, Suzie,” said Gus. “If either of our friends is around they’ll steer the conversation onto more mundane topics. I’ve dragged you into enough philosophical analysis of relationships for one evening.”
“We’re good, though, aren’t we?” asked Suzie. “Whether we’re soul mates or kindred spirits?”
Gus could only think of one way to convince Suzie that everything was fine. They made it to the Lamb just before nine o’clock. Brett Penman met them by the door.
“I thought you two might have been at the allotment this evening,” he said. “I dropped by to invite you here for a drink. I start work in Wootton Bassett tomorrow. The rest of the gang are here already; I popped home to change.”
“We haven’t eaten yet,” said Suzie. “Things got away from us, and time has flown. We’ll grab a bite to eat and join you as soon as we can.”
Brett led them inside. His grandfather wasn’t in his usual seat at the bar, but Gus could hear his voice.
“You order, Suzie,” said Gus, “my usual soul food. I’ll just say hello to Bert, Irene, and the Reverend.”
“How can you be sure they’re here?” asked Suzie.
“My copper’s nose. It never fails.”
Gus strolled through the crowded bar toward his friend’s voice. He found Bert Penman plus the usual suspects, in the far corner. Irene North sat next to Bert, hanging on his every word. At their time of life, did it matter whether they were soul mates or kindred spirits? Irene’s late husband Frank had been a petty
