"Hello?...Yes, it is. Is everything ok?...Oh, that's odd. Ok, well I'll come now…..Sorry that you've had to hang about but I'm on my way."

Hanging up, Katherine frowned. "Who was that, Mum?" Freddie asked.

"Err, Joe's tennis coach. Dad must have got delayed picking him up."

She put the car in reverse and headed back down the driveway. Freddie huffed, he'd been keen to get into the house, the one advantage of his early Saturday morning starts was beating his brothers home giving him first dibs on the computer.

Pulling up into the tennis club car park, Katherine saw her eldest son sitting glumly on the wall next to the entrance. Looking up and spotting them, he stood and slung his racket bag over his shoulder, his displeasure at having to wait all too evident. Climbing in, he sunk into a silent sulk, Katherine knowing better than to bother trying to engage him in conversation. She sighed, three teenage boys and a husband, far too much moody testerone about the place on the best of days.

Getting home, Joe headed straight upstairs, she jumped slightly as he slammed the bedroom door behind him. Freddie hit the kitchen like he hadn't already eaten three breakfasts that morning, giving his mum a wink as he headed to the family room laden down with snacks. About to head to the kitchen herself, a much needed cuppa at the front of her mind, movement on the driveway beyond the frosted glass caught her attention. Ready to let rip at her husband for his careless attention to timekeeping, something he was renowned for, she opened the front door with force, only to be greeted by the sight of two police officers, one with an arm raised ready to knock.


He looked up at the TV screen in the corner of the pub, wondering if he could use his influence as a regular to get the channel changed. Jason, the landlord of the White Hart, knew exactly what was going through Robbie's mind as he pulled the pints he'd ordered and smirked.

"Not a chance, mate. I'd be lynched," he said.

Oh, come on, man! It's only me and James in here. What's the harm?" Robbie replied, half pleading.

But Jason just laughed and shook his head, "It's only you two at the moment, but give it half an hour and this place will be packed, and not with fans of the Newkie Brown."

Robbie chuckled, knowing when he was beaten. "Fair enough, worth a shot," and pointing a finger in jest, "But no throwing assertions on the finest drink to come out of the north east!" Jason just laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.

James watched this from the other side of the pub, only imagining the tactics his Inspector was attempting to employ. He wasn't quite as sad to find himself working as the impression he'd given at the scene. The truth was that his weekends could be pretty dull these days. Meeting friends or even going on the odd date was proving to be surprisingly hard when you spent most of your time shackled to a late middle aged Geordie. Most of his relationships had been with fellow police officers and, at the moment at least, it was slim pickings in the ranks. Not for his boss, mind you, although he still couldn't get his head around why Lewis was still dragging his feet over Laura Hobson. Hell, he thought, half the station would take the good doctor out on a date if they weren't so intimidated by her sharp tongue and dry wit. And Robbie was far from intimidated, quite the opposite in fact. Years James had spent watching the two of them, observing how they lit up in each others' company, noting their quiet support for one another through difficult times. They constantly sought one another out, whether they were conscious of it or not, and yet nothing ever seemed to happen between them and given his own single status he found this particularly frustrating. His most recent attempt to spur them into action has failed to produce results but he was not ready to give up just yet. Pondering his next match making move, his thoughts were interrupted by Robbie planting a pint in front of him.

"No luck," Lewis said as he sat down, a hint of regret in his voice as he deliberately ignored the smirk on his Sergeant's face. "Still, a lunchtime pint is something, I suppose. Cheers," tilting his drink towards James before taking a sip.


Katherine sat in the back of the police car in shock. She'd not wanted to leave the children but she'd had no choice, asking a neighbour to sit with them. Tom had been as white as a sheet as the policeman had ushered him up the drive and into the house. He'd just stood, arms limp as she'd held him, stroked his soft brown hair and tried to tell him that it was all ok. But it was everything but. Freddie and Joe had looked similarly pale, just looking at her, silently pleading for her to make sense of the words they were hearing. But how could anyone make sense of their father, her husband, suddenly dropping dead on an ordinary Saturday morning? So ordinary, she almost laughed at the irony, that they'd not even said goodbye, rushing about just trying to get themselves and the boys ready and out of the door.

She felt the gentle touch of the Family Liaison Officer on her shoulder, encouraging her out of the car. They wanted her to identify the body. She felt sick to think about it but moved on auto pilot, letting herself be led, the words that she supposed people were saying to her to reassure her, to explain what she needed to do and why, were muffled. She took a deep breath, 'one foot in front of the other, Katie,' she told herself, 'just keep moving.'


James led Katherine away from the mortuary towards the room they kept for occasions such as these. It wasn't the nicest room but its lighting was softer and the sofas more inviting than the alternative. At various times over the years efforts had been made to make it more welcoming, pictures of Oxford's colleges added to the walls, mismatched coffee tables brought in, the odd trinket decorating the shelf and window sill, but overall it still lacked any kind of warmth. Leaving her alone with her thoughts, experience and training telling him that she'd need a few moments to compose herself before they could ask her some questions, he met Robbie in the corridor.

"She's confirmed it's her husband," he reported to his boss. "I was just about to get coffee. Still in shock, I'd say."

Robbie nodded, "Understandable. That won't pass in a hurry," his words laced with sympathy borne out of his own tragic experience. "Laura reckons she might not get to the PM 'til the morning. She's just been called out to a RTA out by the motorway."

"Didn't think she was on call this weekend." He frowned, "Not that we were supposed to be either."

Robbie confirmed his thinking, "Rawbone's AWOL and she's pretty cross about it so maybe let's steer clear of the lab this afternoon, eh? PM or no PM." James agreed emphatically, always happy to dodge an angry Dr. Hobson. "Right, you get those coffees and I'll see if Mrs Maloney is feeling up to talking."


DCS Innocent had come in mostly out of solidarity although she'd stopped short of her usual office attire, settling for dark trousers and a smart jumper over her usual choice of a fitted dress and tailored jacket. She hated having to call anyone in on their day off, knowing just how precious they were and how much her officers needed them in order to decompress and process the often harrowing scenes they had to confront. But today she'd had little choice. Tempting people into the profession was getting harder, and keeping hold of them was proving even more challenging, and as a result they were often short staffed. That it had been Lewis and Hathaway made it more galling given they'd only wrapped up their last case the day before and were already owed hours of overtime.

"You didn't need to come in as well, Ma'am."

Looking up from the latest budget report, she smiled weakly at Lewis leaning in the doorway to her office, noting he'd put in about as much effort into his clothing selection as she had, recognising his suit from the previous day.

"Mmm, well that may be so but don't tell Mr Innocent that. Besides this paperwork mountain will only be waiting for me come Monday," she gestured to the large stack next to her that somehow never seemed to diminish. "Wife shine any light on what might have happened?"

Robbie shook his head. "Not really, she did a good job of holding it together but I suspect we'll have to wait for the good doctor on this one." He proceeded to outline what they knew. Kevin had been to all intents and purposes fit and healthy, not on any medication, and kept himself pretty active. A senior manager in a local accountancy firm he was pretty stable financially, and married for 17 years, they seemed happy enough.

"So she has no idea about the pills and injuries?"

Robbie shook his head, "I didn't go in too strongly on those given the PM is pending but no, she gave no impression of him having a drugs problem or people who might wish him harm." He paused, scratched his head subconsciously, and checked his watch, sighing as he realised the final whistle would have blown by now. Ah well, he thought, there's always the highlights on telly later.

Innocent regarded him carefully before speaking, "You two may as well clock off then given you'll be back here tomorrow. Speaking of which, where's Hathaway?"

Robbie chuckled, "Keeping our seats warm in the pub, Ma'am. Great minds and all that." Innocent stood and reached for coat, happy, on this singular occasion, to bow to his good idea.