Both detectives arrive early the next morning. Hathaway tracks down Hooper, who tells him that he and the other DCs scoured the streets of St. Clements and St. Mary's and found that, while many residents could testify about the financial abuse conducted by PC Flannery, none witnessed Wilder participating directly in that activity.

"We've drawn a blank, then."

"Yes, boss." Hooper frowns, suddenly puzzled. "Or are you not the boss any more?"

Hathaway purses his lips. "You know, I'm not sure."

He returns to the office, where Lewis is reading up on what transpired in his absence. "Sir, Hooper asked me if I'm still 'boss' on this case."

"Good question. Do you want to be?"

"Well, yeah, of course."

"Fine. You steer and I'll let you know when you get too close to the cliff. Alright?"

Hathaway scowls. "You sure you'll be able to resist overriding my orders every ten minutes, even if they're wrong?"

Lewis twists a smile. "Look, Hathaway. I taught me son how to drive, alright? So I know when to shut up, close me eyes, and hold on, and when to grab the steering wheel. I don't see this as being very different from that."

James considers this. "How many tries did it take him to pass the exam?"

"Four. But don't worry, you have more aptitude than he does."

"Thank you, Sir."

"So what's next, Sergeant?"

"Jenny Wilder."

"Alright, let's go pay a visit to Missus Wilder."

She welcomes the two detectives into her home. More than welcomes, in fact. She is wearing a low-cut knit top that well displays her ample and shapely bosom, and she bends and twists in a way that displays that feature to the greatest benefit.

"Well, Inspector. I thought I might be seein' you again. That makes me very happy." She draws a lacquered fingernail along Lewis's jawbone.

Hathaway realizes for the first time how attractive she is, physically. Not only is she well-endowed, but all her other features are just about perfect, in his view. Why does she seem to have a thing for Lewis?

She readily admits to having had an affair with Mark Flannery. "It started when Tony an' me were over at the Flannerys' house. It was obvious that Meaghan scorned him, just as Tony treated me as more of an ornament than a wife. Mark and me were, y'know, like kindred souls and it didn't take long for us to discover we were very compatible in bed." She gazes at Lewis in a frankly assessing way. "You remind me a lot of him." Her voice is husky.

Lewis snorts. "I'm not especially happy to be compared to him, I'm afraid. We've learned that he wasn't behaving as a proper cop should. That doesn't surprise you, does it?"

"Aw, no, I knew all about his monkey business. So did Tony. He got sick of Mark havin' money all the time, so he decided he needed to help himself to a little piece o' that particular pie. I think that's why Mark decided he needed a piece o' this particular pie." She gestures to herself, slightly brushing her breasts and smiling at Lewis.

"It was a shame, really. Mark and Tony had been mates, y'know? And this money thing drove them apart. They ended up hating each other, but stuck together as partners for appearances' sake."

Hathaway clears his throat, as though ensuring that Jenny remembers he's still present. "Are you willing to testify against your husband, Mrs. Wilder?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Y'mean about him blackmailing Mark, or about him killing Mark?"

The two detectives stare at each other, stunned. Hathaway is the first to recover. "All of it, Ma'am. What can you tell us about the killing?"

"Well, Mark was over at here that night, y'know. Tony was out at . . . oh, that pub over by the Sheldonian." She looks to Lewis for help.

"The White Horse?"

"Yeah! You know it?"

He nods toward Hathaway. "We go there after work sometimes on a Friday."

"Yeah, it's nice, I like it."

Hathaway clears his throat again. "You were saying, Mrs. Wilder, that Mark was here and Tony was not?"

"Yeah, sorry. Me an' Mark were foolin' around in the bedroom. He had his police baton thing with him. We were . . . you could say we were 'experimenting' with it in bed." She winks. "Well, Tony came home sooner than we expected and he nearly caught us. We heard his car in the drive and were able to get decent but I think he knew somethin' had been goin' on. Mark left, sayin' he had a few stops to make. Tony started yellin' at me, accusin' me o' sleeping with Mark. He didn't have any proof, so I denied it at first. But he kept arguin' an' he was bein' a real prick so I told him, yeah, we'd been havin' an affair for months. Then he really got angry and he stormed out."

Lewis looks up from his notepad. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Nah, but I had the impression he was goin' to find Mark and have it out with him. He came back about two hours later. I was up in our room, but I heard him doing something out in the garden so I peeked out. It looked like he was buryin' somethin'."

Hathaway furrows his brow. "Burying something? Did you ever go look to see if he had?"

She shakes her head. "I never went to see. Tony's been acting a bit mad since then, and I'm kinda afraid of him now. Anyway, I heard him come in and then I heard the shower goin'. After that stopped, I heard him start a load of washin'. That was very unusual, he always made me do that kinda work. I did check up on that later; he had washed the clothes he had been wearin' when we argued."

"What happened after you heard him start the washing?"

"I pretended to be asleep. He came in and climbed into bed and that was that. We never talked about it or mentioned our row again."

Hathaway inhales. "When you learned of Flannery's death, did your husband's actions that night take on a new meaning?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean, at the time, I just thought he was actin' weird. But when I heard about Mark bein' killed, well, I assumed Tony had killed him, buried the weapon, and then washed the blood off himself and his clothes."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, it was all speculation on my part, and no one ever asked me."

Lewis rolls his eyes. I hate it when they say that.

They get a DNA swab from her and then go out to the garden. Under Jenny's direction, they find signs of recent spadework and soon dig up an ASP, retracted and in its holder. "Ah, that's what happened to it." Lewis watches as Hathaway places it carefully in a bag. "Off to forensics with that."

On the way back to the office, Hathaway drums his fingers on the dash.

"Sergeant, what?"

"Well, Jenny told us a lot of useful information. But CPS won't be able to use her testimony about what Flannery said because it's hearsay. And they won't be able to use her testimony about what Wilder said because of marital privilege. So what does that leave them, for trial?"

"That's CPS's problem. Anyway, with the weapon found in his own garden, I think we have a solid case."

They drive in silence for a while. Lewis glances to his left every now and then, knowing that Hathaway is working something over in his mind. Eventually, he cannot tolerate the suspense.

"Say it, Sergeant."

"Say what?"

"Whatever it is you're stewing about. It's something, I can tell."

Hathaway stares out through the windscreen. "How is it, Sir, that you have all these women falling all over themselves for your attention? I mean, Hobson, fine, but also Jenny Wilder, and you said both the baby broker and Mary Jansen came on to you."

"Hobson doesn't fall all over herself for me, and Mary Jansen's a prostitute, she was only trying to conduct business."

"Fine, forget her. What about the others?"

"Well, why wouldn't they? If I'm their type, I mean."

"Their type? I mean, look at you, you're—" No good way to end that sentence.

"Go ahead, try to hurt me feelings. I'm what, Sergeant, were you going to say?"

"A munter. Sir."

Lewis snorts. "Oh, nice. You may not find me physically beautiful, Hathaway, but not all women are as superficial as you are. Some of them find a friendly manner and a good heart more attractive than youthful good looks."

Hathaway snorts derisively.

"You don't believe me? Well, what's your theory, then?"

"Maybe they can sense how desperate you are."

"Maybe they can sense how much experience I have in the sack."

Hathaway snorts again.

"More likely they find you attractive because you pose no sexual threat. You're safe."

"No, Sergeant, that's why you find me attractive." Lewis grins.

"And here I thought it was your keen wit."

Hooper whistles softly as Hathaway adds the notes to the incident board. "Wilder's own wife grassin' on him. You and boss must have a way with women."

"Well, one of us seems to, at least." Hathaway hands him the evidence bags. "Get these over to forensics. Fingerprints and DNA on this, and run DNA on the swab. It's Jenny Wilder's. I expect we'll find she was the unidentified woman with whom Flannery had sex the night he died."

"One woman for both partners, what an interesting idea." Hooper winks at Hathaway, and scoots from the room.

Hathaway is happy to hand over the reins to Lewis for Wilder's interview. He stands behind Lewis's chair at the interview table as Lewis begins the questioning.

"Well, Tony, we had a little chat with your wife this morning. It was most revealing."

Wilder sneers. "'Revealing'? You mean she showed you her tits? She's had the hots for you since you showed up last Sunday."

"She certainly had the hots for Mark Flannery, didn't she?"

Wilder snorts, and says nothing.

"You're the jealous type, aren't you, Tony? I saw it the day we were there and she paid me a bit too much attention."

Silence.

"A'course, I s'pose I'd be jealous too, good-looking wife like that. She's got those lovely . . . assets." Lewis cups his hands. It is obvious which assets he's referring to.

Wilder says nothing, but his face reddens.

"And I s'pose it's only natural for you to think every man who spends a minute or two alone with her is dippin' his wick. Who knows what happened in that five minutes I spent with her in the kitchen." Lewis shifts, rearranging his crotch and stretching. "She's hot, no doubt. Quite the flirt. And now you're in here and she's out there, all alone. Or maybe not so alone. I think I'd better go check on her this evening."

Wilder growls. "You fucking bastard, you stay away from her, I'm warning you!"

Lewis smiles. "Too late. I've already slept with her. She rang me as soon as she found out you weren't coming home last night. She was good. Not as tight as I'd like, but I s'pose that's to be expected." Lewis seems dismissive.

Wilder leaps to his feet, knocking over his chair, and throws himself over the table, grabbing Lewis around the throat. "You FUCK! You absolute fuck! That's my wife you're talking about. I'll kill you, you sonofabitch, if you think you can fuck my wife."

Hathaway and the PC guarding the door pull Wilder off of Lewis with relative calm, and sit him back in his chair.

Lewis rubs his neck.

"I'm taking the mickey here, Wilder. I've never had sex your wife. I've never so much as touched your wife, though she put a hand or two on me alright." He sorts himself out, smoothing out his shirt and jacket. "You'd kill anyone who thought he could help himself to your wife, wouldn't you?"

Silence.

"Including your partner, Mark Flannery."

Wilder's chest is heaving. His eyes are closed. "You won't get anything out of me."

"Oh, yeah? I think I already have."

There comes a knock on the door of the interview room. It's Hooper.

"Sir? Forensics have come through. Do you want the results here?"

"Yeah, I do, Hooper. Thanks." Lewis takes the report and stands in the corner of the room as he scans the results from forensics.

Hooper winks at Hathaway. "Didn't I tell you? Watch out for the partner." He arches his eyebrows in Lewis's direction, and practically skips out of the room.

"Well, this is interesting." Lewis waves the report at his sergeant.

Wilder huffs, purposely ignoring whatever Lewis might find.

"Sir?"

"His fingerprints and Flannery's blood. Together." Lewis glances up from the report, meeting Wilder's startled look. "Oh, did I forget to mention that we found Flannery's police baton buried in your garden? Pretty damning evidence, that."

Wilder slumps in his chair, all the fight gone out of him. "I didn't think you'd ever find it." He sighs. "Well, if you have that, you hardly need my confession too, do you?"

"You bloody fool, why didn't you just chuck it in the river?"

"I hated him so much. I was blind with anger. I didn't realize I still had it in my hand until I got home." He sighs again. "Alright, let me make my statement."