The M40 seemed to stretch into infinity as they travelled to Stratford. The trip would be just under two hours but it could not go soon enough for either of them. Lynley drove as he always did but stared directly in front not daring to look at Barbara. She was pretending to read the case notes that she had already read twice. There was none of their usual banter and they were not bouncing ideas and theories off each other or asking probing questions. The atmosphere was icily tense and both could sense that one misspoken word would lead to disaster, so they just sat locked in their own worlds; both in pain and neither knowing how to resolve it.

Barbara pulled her phone from her coat pocket and called Winston. "Hiya. Any word from the Birmingham boys on the forensics yet?...okay thanks, well let me know if you hear anything."

"No word from Birmingham yet Sir. They should have something by the time we get there."

Tommy did not reply and did not divert his gaze from the road so she tried again to engage him in conversation. "I wonder why they want us there and did not use the Birmingham teams?"

"No idea."

"It seems to have something to do with you knowing the main lead. You apparently went to school with MacQuarie, what was he like?"

"I don't remember him."

He was clearly disinterested which infuriated Barbara. "Look Sir, I don't know what is going on in your head at the moment. I don't know why you are leaving. I don't know why you couldn't tell me before and I don't know why you are being so callous now. Is it something I've done? Or not done?"

"No." His voice was tight.

"Well we need to solve this case and not talking to each other seems pointless. I've never been case lead before and I'd much prefer it was like yesterday where you were my DI and you were always going to be here but seeing that has changed and I've been thrown in the deep end because of it, I'd like your help. Having to pussyfoot around you is not going to work. Help me out here Sir."

"You are a good detective, you'll work it out." His voice was flat and his tone was bitter.

"What the hell is the matter with you and why can't you talk to me about it?" She was angry now and doubted anything she said would make it worse between them. She needed to know what was wrong.

Tommy wrenched on the wheel and cut across the outside lane of traffic and stopped the car with a screech at the side of the road. A few drivers blasted their horns at the manoeuvre and Barbara sat up in her seat shocked. "What the…?"

"Look Sergeant Havers, oh no sorry I forgot, Acting Detective Inspector Havers, I DO NOT want to be on this case. I DO NOT want to be your babysitter; I do not want to be in the same car as you. I don't even want to be in the same country as you! But I have to be so just shut the hell up and let me drive!" His face was red and his usually soft smouldering eyes were burning with a rage she had never seen before, even on his darkest days.

Barbara looked at him defiantly. "Fine. I think we know where we stand DI Lynley. I suggest then that you start driving so that we can both be released from this prison of a car as soon as possible."

Lynley swung the car back out on the highway and pushed the accelerator to the floor. When he had pulled over he had wanted to kill her. He had actually intended to kill her. It had flashed through his mind so fast. He would drag her out of the car and into the trees and bludgeon her to death with his fists. He could almost feel his knuckles sinking into her flesh and hear the bones snap. He could smell her fear and taste the blood that would splatter from the wounds across his face and best of all he would watch the terror in her eyes when she realised he was not going to stop. He would wipe the insolence off her face once and for all.

He did not know what stopped him but as he drove now he was relieved that something had. He chanced a glance across at her and saw her brooding as she looked out the window and he hated himself. She was the most trusting and steadfast friend he had ever had and he loved her in a way that defied definition and yet he was fantasising about violently murdering her. He would drive her to Stratford and then leave before he completely lost his mind. In the last few months he had often wondered what it would be like to go insane but he had somehow believed that it would be a release from reality and not this maelstrom of violence and fear. He wanted to scream and rage so he gripped the wheel tighter and started to count.

Barbara watched his reflection in the side window and at that moment she was the closest she had ever come to hating him. He had been her life; her reason for existing for so long that for it to end like this was unbearable. She could understand if he needed to leave the force, leave her, leave London, even leave the country but he could have taken her heart with him and left her with her memories; he did not have to reach in and wrench it out of her chest leaving her with nothing. He had looked at her with pure hatred but it was far worse not knowing why. What could possibly have changed overnight to make him like this?

In Stratford they went straight to the theatre. It was nearly eleven o'clock but the whole town seemed to be hovering on the banks of the river waiting for action. Barbara felt as if she was in the middle of a mad Shakespearean tragedy where she was the hapless character who had no idea what was happening around them. Or maybe it was a comedy.

The director of the play ushered them inside and was ranting about the notorious bad luck that befell productions of the 'play that cannot be named'. Now he too would be infamous and he was revelling in actress's body was still in her dressing room rigid with rigor mortis but strangely devoid of blood despite her head being nearly cleaved in two. By best estimates she had been dead over twelve hours. The axe was a large one that looked like a prop from the fight scenes and added an extra grotesqueness to the crime. The performance last night was a dusk one and had finished by nine. That narrowed the time and opportunity.

"The room was locked from the inside ma'am," said the local sergeant and it took Barbara a while to realize he was addressing her. Ma'am was not something she was comfortable with being called. Perhaps if she kept the rank she would revert to the old school and have them call her Gov. "There is no other entry or exit that we can see so it is a complete puzzle."

"Classic locked room scenario DI Havers," Lynley said. Since he had been on scene he had been much more like his usual self. Barbara found it pitiful that it took murder to bring out his humanity.

"Except DI Lynley that in those cases the murder is committed outside the room and the victim locks themselves in either unaware they are fatally wounded or because they are. Here it is unlikely she would have been able to lock the door with a battle axe through her head."

"I totally agree DI Havers."

The constable watched them as if he were watching a match at Wimbledon. Back and forth they asked questions and made comments but always addressing each other by their rank and name. It was not just unnerving it was downright odd. They obviously hated working together and yet it seemed effortless to them.

Barbara sent the constable to set up interview rooms. She would start with the crew and then the cast. She turned to Lynley and hissed, "we sound stupid calling each other by our rank."

"Try calling me Tommy, that's my name."

"I can't do that."

"You stopped calling me Sir easily enough."

"Because the way you were behaving I stopped respecting you!"

Despite his inner rage Tommy was devastated by her comment. Part of him wanted to beat some respect into her but mostly he was sad that he had fallen so far in her eyes. He did not want their friendship to end like this; he did not want her to hate him but he was powerless to stop it. "Let's just keep to surnames Havers, that is not too unusual." He went to prepare for the interviews.

They interrogated the crew and minor players together to save time but interviewed the main cast individually. It was after seven when they finished and without lunch both of them were starving. They checked in to their digs, a small private hotel with rooms over four levels. They were on the top floor and were to share a bathroom. The rooms were small but functional. Barbara was disturbed to find a large picture of a woman dressed in a gossamer gown hanging above her bed. As they walked to the pub she asked Lynley, "do you have a Shakespearean character over your bed Sir?"

"Yes, Hamlet. What happened to Lynley?"

"Habit, I'm still not happy with you."

"And you?"

"The inscription says Ophelia."

"That's ironic."

"Why?"

"She was Hamlet's innocent girlfriend. She is torn between loyalty to him and her family and eventually goes insane and kills herself."

"Yeah, so what's the irony?"

"He abused and mistreated her and yet she still loved him with all her heart."

They both looked at each other but neither spoke or smiled. They walked silently to the pub. They ate quickly and conversation was limited to discussing suspects and the mystery of the locked room. There was no familiarity in their behaviour and Barbara thought they could easily be strangers meeting for the first time. She was confused but as the night wore on she became increasingly despondent. She was not prone to tearful outbursts often but tonight she wanted to get back to the room and pour her feelings into her pillow. She had at least a gallon of tears to shed. The handsome face that she had loved so much was still there but it was just a living shell; she had lost her beautiful soulmate and she needed to mourn.