"Tell us about Lana Browne, Mr Brompton," Robbie said, his tone reflecting the fact that he was not at all in the mood to be messed around. His fitful night's sleep was beginning to take its toll in earnest and the sight of his sour-faced Sergeant on his arrival back at the station had done little to improve the situation. "We understand she was a Director of Kempton Holdings?"

Jackson Brompton was certainly looking a lot less slick than he had been even a few hours before. His tie was askew and jacket now crumpled and hanging off the back of his chair. That this had been Robbie's plan from the off was lost on Jackson who, after several hours alone with his thoughts and only the most basic level of comfort available to him, was close to confessing all solely to escape the darkened room he found himself in. But his resolve was tougher than that and he wasn't going down without a fight.

"I've never met Lana Browne," his straightforward reply.

Robbie merely stared, before responding, "That's not what I asked."

The two men locked eyes, but Robbie had the advantage of not being intimidated by either their current surroundings or the process itself.

"Fine," Jackson relented, "Yes, she's a Director of Kempton Holdings."

"And what's your relationship to her and the company?" Robbie asked.

"They are a client, we look after their accounts. Or, more specifically," Jackson corrected, "Kevin Maloney looked after them on the firm's behalf."

"And what does that entail exactly?" Robbie asked, and listened to Jackson give a detailed description of the services they provided, with nothing said that he hadn't already gleaned from the website of Agile Accounting. This concluded, he moved on. "Tell me about the gym that Kempton Holdings own?"

Jackson seemed surprised at this question and hesitated in answering. "Well, it's just one of their businesses, nothing fancy about it. An old boxing gym, I think."

Robbie nodded, "So you or Kevin would never have call to go there?"

"God, no!" he replied somewhat horrified. "A sweatbox of a place. All bodybuilders who fancy themselves gifted with a beautiful physique, staring at themselves on a mirrored wall."

Robbie smirked at this, it was all too easy sometimes, he thought as he asked, "And you know that how?" enjoying the reaction on Jackson's face as he realised that he was about to be not only outwitted but probably outclassed as well.


Blessed with a quiet day, the pathology team had opted for a longer than usual morning coffee break. Their staff room wasn't much to look at - just a few rather tatty armchairs, a low table in teh centre, and brightly coloured framed photographs of the Botanic Garden - but it was enough of a change from the white and steel of the morgue for the staff to seek it out. One of younger lab assistants had just been sharing a rather racy tale about his evening out with the boys from the chemistry department which had them all in raucous laughter, all except Margaret who remained as poe-faced as she could whenever these occasions arose. Laura delighted in her team feeling comfortable to be themselves when they were together like this. As the story of various drink-fuelled conquests and other misdemeanours drew to a close, movement outside the room caught her eye and she stood to see who it was, surprised to see DCS Innocent through the wired glass of the door.

"Loitering with intent, Jean?" she remarked as she stepped out into the corridor, letting the door close behind her. "Unusual to see you in my neck of the woods. Everything ok?"

Jean gave a small smile, "I just wanted to see if you were alright. You seemed upset last night," she ventured tentatively.

Caught between the professional and friendship, she was never sure where she stood with Laura, a feeling shared by many in CID. Jean knew Laura was a private person but she did worry about her, as she did about everyone she worked with, and seeing her all but flee from the building the previous evening had been on her mind. She regarded Laura in her green scrubs and with a coffee in hand, and wondered now if this had been a good idea, her face so hard to read.

"I'm fine," Laura offered lightly, unwilling to get into anything too heavy at work and possibly not with Jean, however well meaning her concern might be intended. "Just the end of a tough day, you know how it is. Nothing a good nights' rest didn't sort out." It was a kind of a truth, she thought, as Jean nodded, seeming to understand. "But thanks for worrying about me," she added with a small smile. "Any news on the Maloney case?"

Jean shook her head, not at all convinced by Laura's answer but accepting it for what it was. "Not much, a few potential suspects hauled in this morning for questioning. No doubt I'll get an update when I'm back," she paused, and then glancing at her watch in order to appear casual and uninterested, asked, "Robbie not keeping you in the loop?"

"About as much as usual," Laura replied, sipping her coffee and grimacing slightly at the taste of the now near cold liquid, "I'm fairly redundant until they bring a boot to compare with the bruising to his back."

"Oh, I don't know," Jean countered, "I'd say you were never redundant in DI Lewis' eyes, Laura. You know he values you above all others." She looked at her watch again, "Goodness, I really must be getting off. See you soon. It was good to chat."

She turned, her skirt swishing as she marched off away, a bemused Laura left wondering what the whole encounter had really been about.


"I'm too old and too tired for games this afternoon, so please could you just answer the question? We have you on CCTV following the recently deceased Mr Maloney out of the Randolph Hotel and, as yet, you haven't been able to give me an adequate reason as to why."

Peter Moore regarded the Inspector, a smirk deliberately plastered across his face. He'd not had the privilege of being interviewed by him before but from what he'd heard on the grapevine and observed over the last few days he was going to need to be careful.

"No comment," he said.

"Ok, let's try something else then. Mr Maloney had a rather nasty bruise to his back which my pathologist tells me is from a boot. Any chance that it could be your boot that I'm looking for?"

"No comment."

"I see, and so it's just a coincidence that on the night that Mr Maloney is kicked in the back, the injury that led to his death, that you just happened to be seen with him wearing a rather substantial shoe."

"Looks like it. Or maybe your pathologist is wrong," Peter ventured, feeling his solicitor bristle slightly at the deviation from the agreed plan of staying silent.

"I doubt that very much, Mr Moore," Robbie replied wearily, fighting an inner urge to slap the man for his insolence. "Ever visited the gym on Kinnock Street?"

"No comment."

"Ever been to the leisure complex in the centre of town?" James asked, intervening suddenly into the process.

"The big ugly concrete one?" Peter asked, turning to look at the Inspector's sidekick, and as James confirmed it, replied, "No comment".

"Interview suspended 4.32," Robbie said with a sigh, gesturing to James that they should leave.

As he pulled the door open and made to move through it, Peter Moore spoke, "You should keep an eye on that pathologist of yours, Inspector. Dangerous place Oxford for petite blondes."

Robbie turned, a flash of something across his face quickly buried, but not quick enough to hide it from James, who subtly took him by the elbow and led him out.

"Best not let him see you react, Sir" he said discreetly before striding off down the corridor, leaving Robbie to follow in his wake.