to the final breath.

Suddenly the tree jerked free of its hold upon the ground and the rope whipped out of control through Broderick’s now bleeding hands. Below him Laytham saw what was about to happen and began to kick out with even greater fury. But nothing could stop the force of gravity as it propelled his wretched crippled body downwards to its painful, splintered fate on the rocks below. Broderick and his fellow officers looked helplessly on as Laytham fell screaming to his painful ignominious end.

‘May God have mercy on your soul!’ Broderick whispered under his breath. Then, realising just how close to experiencing a similar fate he was himself, Broderick called across to Calbot.

‘Calbot? I think I’m going to need some help getting back from here.’

20

Calbot and Broderick stood on the front porch of The Captain’s House as they observed Sullivan being checked over in the waiting ambulance. The setting sun across the Straights of Gibraltar had turned the distant mountains of Morocco a crimson red.

‘I suppose you could say that hanging was too good for him, guv’ Calbot said at last.

‘You might also say that the punishment fitted the crimes. How’s Sullivan?’

‘Looking pretty good to me. Not much keeps her down.’

‘Yes... she’s... a good officer,’ Broderick added thoughtfully.

‘You okay, sir?’ Calbot asked, not used to the sound of compliments coming from his boss’ mouth.

‘Erm, yes. Course I am’ Broderick replied a little awkwardly. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ With that he left his detective constable and walked towards Sullivan as she emerged from the ambulance.

‘That was a close thing, sergeant’ Broderick told her.

‘Yes sir. Well timed by you if I may say so’ she replied.

‘Kept your head pretty well, I must say.’

‘You mean for a woman, sir?’

‘No. For a police officer, sergeant’ Broderick corrected.

Sullivan looked across to the old house, now empty of life and the living.

‘Well this place has seen enough tragedy in its time’ Sullivan observed.

‘Not least the tragedy of Laytham’s...’Broderick corrected himself. ‘Gregson’s delusion.’

Sullivan looked at her boss questioningly.

‘He got it all wrong, you see.’

‘I don’t understand’ Sullivan said.

‘Gregson thought his father loved him and that his mother had made his father suffer. But I’ve read the full report from the archives which included his father’s statement after the arrest. I also made a few enquiries elsewhere. It seems that Gregson Senior was the big philanderer. He was a well- known womaniser here on The Rock. Treated his wife very poorly, by all accounts. Gregson’s mother eventually began to take retaliation on him by having her own lovers. The young boy was only privy to his mother’s behaviour. His father carried on his affairs elsewhere.’

‘But to have your father carry the can for a murder you yourself committed? That must have been what turned Gregson into a madman.’

‘Yes, he truly believed that his father had sacrificed himself so that he the son could live without blame. However, the man’s statement suggests another story. Gregson knew it was his son that had killed his wife and according to his statement, didn’t hesitate in offering the police that information. One line of that statement has stayed with me. He said, “Don’t think that boy isn’t capable of murder. He is a calculating brat and should never be trusted. It wasn’t me. It was him.” Not exactly the words of a loving father wishing to protect his only child.’

‘Dear God.’ Sullivan stopped in her tracks.

‘The police dismissed his version out of hand. So, Gregson’s father hung himself, not to protect his son, but to avoid the shaming and disgrace of the murder himself.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him when you had the chance?’ Sullivan asked.

‘Gregson had a knife at your throat, if you remember? I thought it best not to aggravate him further. The truth for him, you see, may well have been more horrific than the fantasy.’

Sullivan took a moment for this to sink in. Broderick thought it time to change the subject.

‘So, at the end of your first couple of weeks on The Rock, do you have any observations, assistance or advice you’d care to give me?’

‘Come to think of it, one of each, sir. I observe that your collar is twisted at the back, so I’ll assist you by straightening it out.’ she said, smiling as she did so. ‘And my advice would be to go home and pour yourself a large scotch.’

‘And to think you came all the way from London just to tell me that. Almost a waste of valuable police resources’

‘Oh, that’s just for starters, sir. I can waste a lot more than that.’

Broderick smiled as he moved off across the lawn to his parked Mercedes. Sullivan watched him go. Without looking back, Broderick called to her.

‘You need a lift, Detective Sergeant?’

‘Yes,please, guv’ a surprised Sullivan answered.

‘Well get a bloody move on, then!’

Sullivan smiled to herself and looked up at The Rock towering high above her. It had been there for a million years and more, but tonight, as she headed across the lawn of The Captain’s House to Broderick’s waiting car, that simple fact gave her an unexpected and much needed sense of comfort.

Robert Daws

As an actor, Robert has appeared in leading roles in a number of award winning and long running British television series, including Jeeves and Wooster, Casualty, The House of Eliot, Outside Edge, Roger,Roger, Rock and Chips and The Royal.

For the stage his recent work includes the national tours of Michael Frayn’s Alarms and Excursions and David Harrower’s Blackbird. In the West End he has recently appeared as Dr John Watson in The Secret of Sherlock Holmes. Geoffrey Hammond in Public Property and Jim Hacker in Yes Prime Minister.

His many BBC radio performances include Arthur Lowe in Dear Arthur, Love John and Trueman and Riley, the returning police detective series he co-created with its writer Brian B Thompson.

As a writer, Robert is currently working on a second Sullivan and Broderick mystery as well as a number of projects for theatre and television.

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