The incident board that was set up in the open part of the office was starting to fill up. In the centre, Kevin Maloney, married father of three, successful accountant, struck down by a nasty kick to the back. Jackson Brompton's face had also made it onto the board, his character being what it was, and down the side a list of questions that yet needed to be answered. Robbie and James stared intently at it as if hope alone would resolve them.

"Let's park the insulin for the moment," Robbie started. "Laura's got some ideas on that but it's not the cause of death so let's start with that. Who would want to kick a middle aged accountant so hard that it would kill them?"

James reached for a file. "CCTV hasn't given us much. Phone log has a few interesting things worth looking into. A series of calls from a burner phone in the last week. They don't last long though, each one half a minute or less. Could be something. The post-mortem report estimates the bruising to the back to have happened on Thursday night which seems to tie-in with those work drinks."

Robbie scratched the back of his neck. "Do we know if he went anywhere after the drinks?"

James shook his head, "Not yet but I've got Jones trawling CCTV from the Randolph and following up with the bar staff. There is this though," passing over a print-out from Kevin's diary.

"A private meeting, eh? Could be something. See if anyone from the accountancy firm knows anything about it. I'm going to talk with the wife again and see if the boy who was with him at the pool knows anything. Those bruises on the arm must have come from somewhere, maybe he can shed light on whether his dad spoke to anyone."

Moving to get on with his assigned tasks, James paused. "Everything ok with the boss earlier?" he enquired, trying not to seem overly interested.

Robbie looked up, he had been wondering about how best to question a 13 year old without scaring him half to death. "Eh? Oh that, no. All fine. Just some tickets she wanted to offload."

James worked hard to hide the knowing smirk from his face, choosing instead to raise an inquisitive eyebrow, "Who's the lucky lady, then?"

"None of your beeswax, Sergeant," he replied gruffly, "Now get on with it, will you? Case won't solve itself."

"Sir." James replied, turning away, smiling as he did so. It was the response he'd hoped for, just a gentle push, he thought to himself smugly, that's all that's required now.


The sun was already low in the sky by the time Robbie pulled up outside the Maloney residence once more. He parked and took a moment to review his plan of attack, well not an attack, he reminded himself, more of one of gentle coercion. He could still remember what Patrick had been like at the same age as Thomas, outwardly confident but full of the anxiety of the early teenage years, desperate to be older and wiser but craving his mam when things didn't go to plan. He wondered if all teenage boys were like that, he only had the experience of one. Lyn had been a completely different kettle of fish, mature beyond her years, too conscientious for her own good perhaps. Making his way up the drive and knocking on the door, he adopted what he hoped was a kindly, reassuring expression.

Katherine greeted him with a tired smile and invited him in. She looked weary but no less together than she had on the previous two occasions. Accepting the offer of tea he watched as she moved gracefully around the kitchen, taking the liberty of propping himself on one of the breakfast bar stools. He looked around, the kitchen was a mix of marble surfaces and dark cupboards, with sleek chrome adding a sense that a lot of money had been sunk into the space. On one wall hung framed prints of quotes from poems, the words a swirl of bright colours. Eventually he brought his attention back to the task at hand.

"I'm sorry for the further intrusion, Mrs Maloney," he offered, "I hope I won't be here too long. Just a few follow up questions for you and Thomas, if that's ok."

"Of course, I understand," she replied, reaching for the milk from the fridge and setting it down next to the mugs as the kettle began to boil. "And please, it's Katherine. Mrs Maloney is my mother-in-law and I have no wish to be reminded of her."

Robbie smiled, "Not a fan, I take it. I lucked out with mine and was always grateful for it."

"What does your wife make of your mother? As a mum of boys I fear that history is bound to repeat itself and I'll be loathed by whomever they choose to settle down with."

Her face lightened at the thought of a future happy time, and Robbie was almost sad to have to burst it with his response.

"Well, my mother is long since gone but she got on with my wife, well enough. Val was very easy going, mind, which made it a lot easier."

Katherine frowned and looked at his left hand. "Oh sorry, you're divorced, how insensitive of me... "

He intervened, trying to save her the embarrassment, "My wife died a few years back. I wore the ring for a bit but in the end it weighed too heavily somehow. Some days I miss it, but really I just miss her."

They stood there quietly, both lost to their thoughts for a moment before Katherine jumped back to the present and began pouring out the tea, the kettle now boiled. Carrying their mugs through to the living room, they found Thomas curled up on the sofa, head buried in a football magazine. Katherine introduced the son and policeman to one another, indicating that Robbie should take the armchair.

"What's your team?" he asked lightly.

Thomas regarded the Inspector, unsure what to make of him.

"Dad's from Birmingham so we all support Villa."

Robbie nodded, "Newcastle's mine so we'll try and forget the result from the other week, eh?"

Thomas gave a slightest of smirks at this and Robbie knew he was in.


His questions answered, Robbie thanked Thomas and made his way to the hall, Katherine following to show him out. He opened the front door and turned to say goodbye. He caught sight of her face just at the wrong moment and saw the raw pain that she'd been extremely good at hiding so far.

"It's too early to hear this or even to begin to believe me but I promise it'll get easier," he said gently, his eyes looking directly into hers with sincerity.

She held his gaze for a moment and took a quiet reassurance from it, realising that in the last 48 hours no one had looked directly at her except for him. The other police officers, her neighbours, her children even, were either too caught up in their own feelings of awkwardness or grief to do so. She wondered if this was borne out of his own experience or just that he was truly excellent at his job.

She nodded, "I hope so," she said, her voice close to a whisper with emotion, but with the sudden urge to confide in someone just for a moment. "Because right now I'm not sure I can do this for much longer. Be the strong one, I mean."

"It's tough, really tough, but you will get through it." He spoke kindly, "Don't try to be strong, just take it one step at a time, eh?"

She laughed quietly at this despite the tears that had appeared from nowhere in her eyes. "That's what my mum used to say to me, 'just one foot in front of the other, Katie, that's all anyone can ask of you'.

Robbie nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a wise woman," he said, "And you know what me Dad always said to me? Your mother's always right!"

They laughed together, this shared moment of understanding, and giving her one last reassuring smile he bid his goodbye and headed back towards his car. She watched him go, thinking how very lucky his wife must have been to have had him, desperately wishing she'd been as half as fortunate.


Back in his car, Robbie looked at his watch and concluded it was time to call it a day. Pulling out his phone he saw that he had several missed calls and a voice mail from Hathaway and, just for good measure he noticed, a backup text suggesting they should catch up first thing to review where they'd both gotten to. He had come to appreciate James' belt and braces approach to his work and chose, most of the time at least, just to let him get on with it. Delegation was not a skill that came naturally, Laura had reminded him often enough about that as a trait they both shared, but as time went on perhaps he was getting better at letting go. Perhaps.

Laura, he thought, tapping his phone on the steering wheel as he weighed up the pros and cons that, one way or another, had been consuming his thoughts most of the afternoon. He looked across the front lawn of the house he'd just visited, the lights in the front room now ablaze as the evening darkness began its descent. It was as if he was looking back across the years at the distance travelled, all too aware of the progress that might yet need to be made. But still, the yearning hadn't abated, if anything it had grown and he sensed it might be time. He scrolled through his phone book, selected the name he wanted and, taking a deep breath, hit 'call'.