"Guv, you're not going to believe this! Remember that bloke we pegged for the Stark murder last year? Well, the poor chap - "

"I don't have all day, Massey," Stannis snapped in irritation. Sir. Chief Inspector. DCI Baratheon. He would have been perfectly all right with any of those. But no, Detective Sergeant Massey, late of Eton and Cambridge, just had to prove himself 'one of the lads'.

"A new case, sir. A body. Balon Greyjoy's residence." Stannis approved of DS Horpe's simple recital of facts. Blunt. Straightforward. He gave Richard Horpe a curt nod, and said pointedly to Justin Massey, "The facts. Just the facts. That's all I need, Massey."

That did not wipe the shit-eating grin off DS Massey's face. I give up, Stannis thought. Hopeless. Completely hopeless.

"But he hasn't told you, has he? DS-just-the-facts. He forgot to tell you the most important fact of all, guv," Massey said, his hand patting Horpe's shoulder. Horpe looked like he would love nothing more than to punch the owner of that hand in the face. "It's Balon Greyjoy. He's the dead guy in the library. And the whole clan is there, his children, brothers, even the estranged wife." DS Massey rubbed his hands together with glee. "I would love another try at that lot, that's for sure. Arrogant sods, all of them."

It was still unsolved, Ned Stark's murder. One of Stannis' few failures. Balon Greyjoy's brother Euron had been his alibi for the night of the murder. And his daughter Asha had acted as his solicitor during the interrogation, protesting at every line of questioning, sneering at the detectives at every turn.

"We can't expect the police to be all that bright, can we? Considering how little we pay them. Even the graduates of Oxford and Cambridge," Asha Greyjoy had said, her tone disdainful.

Damn that woman! The memory still rankled.

"Just because they were there doesn't mean one of them did it," Horpe pointed out. "He doesn't lack enemy, Balon Greyjoy."

"Get the car, Massey," Stannis ordered. Speculating was pointless, best to start the investigation as soon as possible. "Not you, Horpe," Stannis said, as DS Horpe started following Massey to the door. "I need you to check the whereabouts of Balon Greyjoy's known enemies and associates."

DS Horpe nodded swiftly. "Yes, sir," he replied, but he looked disappointed. There was a rumoured opening for Detective Inspector, and he and Massey were both vying for the position.

I'm not a camp counsellor, not my job to "buck up the troops" or worry about their self-esteem, Stannis thought crossly.

"Massey can't do it without running half-arsed after some speculation or other. Diligence, that's what I need for this task." Horpe's whole face lit up hearing that from Stannis.

DS Massey would not stop talking on the way to the crime scene. He was driving too fast, as always. And his hair was still too long. "It's regulation length, guv, I swear. You can measure it if you don't believe me," he had said, the last time Stannis had admonished him. It was certainly regulation length at the back, Stannis had measured it himself. Sadly, the rules had not mentioned anything about the front. That was an oversight that must be remedied, Stannis thought. It was absolutely ridiculous for a Scotland Yard detective to have hair resembling members of a boyband.

Not that Stannis knew anything about boybands, or pop music. But he had seen the posters often enough in his teenage daughter's room.

Shireen was not coming to stay with him this weekend. Her best friend was moving to Dublin, and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with her before the move.

You're only at my house twice a month as it is, he wanted to say. But the last time she stayed with him, he had spent most of the Saturday and half the Sunday interrogating suspects. He figured he had forfeited the right to complain. Selyse had made more of a fuss. "If you don't say anything, she's going to think that you don't care if she comes to stay with you or not. You're her father, damn it! It's your job to set some ground rules."

"And you miss her too, I'm sure," her voice softened.

Sometimes he felt like they had been more honest with each other, not to mention more charitable and understanding towards each other, in the five years since the divorce than in the entirety of their courtship and marriage.

Maybe if we had been –

No, he would not do this again. And Selyse had found someone else. She was happy. Something he had always thought she was not capable of being. We'll grow old together, Selyse and I, miserable and unhappy, but at least together, he had always believed.

Melisandre had made Selyse happy.

"Call me Mel," she had said, when Stannis was finally introduced to her. Stannis never did call her that. My wife's lover, he thought sometimes. But of course Selyse was no longer his wife by the time she met Melisandre.

"-can't be as arrogant as she was. She's a suspect now, not a bloody solicitor," Justin Massey was still rambling on and on.

"Justin."

"Guv?" Massey's face lit up, even brighter than Richard Horpe. He was grinning from ear-to-ear. It was very seldom that Stannis had called him by his first name.

"Shut up."

DS Massey was silent for the rest of the journey. Peace, at last.

Balon Greyjoy's mansion – and Stannis definitely thought of it as a mansion, for to call something that monstrously huge and ugly a house was an insult to houses everywhere – was at the end of a very long drive. Scene-of-crime officers were already on site, as well as the pathologist. One of the SOCOs collided with Stannis at the door.

"Sorry, sir," the young man said. Stannis recognized the voice. Devan. Devan Seaworth.

"I didn't know you've completed your training," Stannis said.

Devan smiled. "Just last month, sir."

"How is your … your mother?"

The smile faded. "As well as can be expected, sir."

"Devan!" Someone shouted from the SOCO van.

"I'd better go, sir. It's nice meeting you again."

"Regards to your mother, Devan."

Justin Massey was staring at Devan's retreating back. "Isn't that one of DI Seaworth's sons, guv?"

Stannis nodded curtly.

"It's a pity what happened to DI Seaworth. He was your first sergeant, wasn't he? When you first made Detective Inspector."

"We're not here to investigate my history, Massey," Stannis barked out angrily. Before Justin Massey could make a reply, however, a woman's querulous voice greeted them.

"I hope you're not planning to keep us here all day, Inspector." Asha Greyjoy's voice was full of contempt.

Anger rather than grief. Interesting, Stannis thought.

"It's Chief Inspector, actually. Detective Chief Inspector Stannis Baratheon. And you are all suspects in your father's murder. Including you, Miss Greyjoy." Stannis replied calmly.

"Really? That's news to me. I was in court when the murder happened. My mother phoned me when they found the body. Your scene-of-crime officers were already sniffing around when I got here," Asha Greyjoy countered.

Stannis glanced sharply at DS Massey, who at least had the grace to look sheepish. That's not what he had led Stannis to believe. "Well, we'll have to check your story, of course. I can't simply take your word for it," Stannis said.

"I don't suppose you ever take anyone's word for anything, Inspector," Asha Greyjoy replied, before rattling off the names and phone numbers of the people who could confirm her presence in court. DS Massey struggled to write them down in his notebook; she was talking so fast.

"Asha? Who is that? Who are you talking to?" A fearful, tremulous voice called out from the direction of the living room.

Something flitted across Asha Greyjoy's face for a brief, brief moment. Not anger this time. Worry? Fear?

"It's all right, Mother. It's only the detectives."

"I'll speak with your mother first, Miss Greyjoy. If you would be so kind to let her know? We'll wait for her in the dining room." Stannis said, as politely as he could manage with this woman.

Stannis had the distinct impression that Asha Greyjoy did not like that one bit. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something in protest, but something made her change her mind.

"Very well, Inspector," she replied tersely.