Winter arrives just after three, weighed down by flowers, wine and a duffel bag. "You look a little worse for wear," he says, handing the bag to Ben.

Ben grimaces. Winter is immaculately groomed, even though it's a holiday. Barnaby must love him. "Your boss insisted on waking me up every two hours last night."

"I thought you were only supposed to do that with children," Winter says, smirking at Barnaby.

"Don't worry, Winter," Barnaby retorts. "The next time you get knocked on the head, I'll be sure to let you sleep through the night. A little bleeding in the brain might do you some good."

"Don't be horrible, John," Sarah says, taking the flowers and wine from Winter. "These are lovely, Jamie. Thank you for coming over. John was going to drag poor Ben into the station to take his statement. Can you imagine?"

Ben doesn't much like being pitied, but it's Sarah, so he lets it slide.

"Is Kam coming for dinner?" Sarah continues brightly and completely transparently. "I did promise to introduce her properly to Ben." She's being unusually obvious, but Ben doesn't object to a little harmless flirtation in the name of young love. And it's a refreshing change after the past few hours not to have Sarah plotting his love life.

Still, he can't stop himself from glancing at Kate. "Help me," he mouths, but she just laughs. She does come over to greet Winter, though.

Barnaby is reading the undercurrents and clearly enjoying himself. "Winter, this is Dr. Kate Wilding. She was our pathologist until she deserted us for academia and the bright lights of Brighton. Kate, this is DS Jamie Winter."

"Brighton," Winter says, glancing between Kate and Ben and visibly relaxing. "Up for a social visit?" he probes.

He's a sharp kid, Ben thinks. He'll do well with Barnaby.

"Sarah told me she had a wounded bird, so I thought I would make a house call," Kate replies. "Fortunately, my specialty hasn't been required." She smiles at Jamie, and Ben feels a twinge of jealousy. "You must be Charlie's replacement. Nice for John to have a sharp-dressed man impressing the hoi polloi again. Charlie was a bit casual after Jones here."

Winter looks a little too incredulous when he glances at Ben. He tugs at his t-shirt uncomfortably. "Right, I think that's my cue to get changed. Thanks for the kit, Winter."

"Not at all. By the way, IT rescued the SIM card from your phone," Winter says, "so we got you a loaner. It's in the bag."

"Cheers. I might be a few minutes then. Ask Kate for tips on how to win a pathologist's heart," he tells Winter. "And then you can tell me," he adds, with a wink at Kate.

"We're just friends," he hears Winter protest and laughs.

He checks the phone first. There are a handful of missed calls. The one from Barnaby that spelled the end of his phone, two from Kate, and one from DCS Hicks, only a couple of hours ago. There's also a text from Tom Barnaby that makes him smile. I thought you promised not to get coshed by any more murderers. John obviously made that pre-emptive call. Though considering the likely reason for DCS Hicks's call, he can't quite bring himself to empathize. He sends a quick text - I tried, but you know these weird villages - and calls Hicks back.

"Why did I have to hear from John Barnaby that you'd been hurt," Hicks demands immediately.

"It's nothing, sir. Just a bump on the head." He wishes he were surprised that Barnaby had gone to his DCS, but Barnaby has a longer history in Brighton than he does, and no sense of boundaries.

"I'll expect a full doctor's report before you return to work. You should know John is on the warpath. He is not happy at how things went down."

"Murder has a way of messing up the best laid plans, sir."

"You know if it had been up to me, I would have let you coordinate with Causton from the very beginning."

"There were good reasons not to," Ben replies, though he didn't agree with any of them at the time. "It would have been fine if I hadn't found a dead body."

"Regardless, I'll be stressing the importance of local coordination in my report to SEROCU."

"I'd appreciate it if you could include that DCI Barnaby and his team were integral to the successful conclusion of the case. And I might have got more than a bump on the head if he hadn't found me." He's still not convinced Germaine would have killed him, but he's been wrong about a lot of things.

Hicks chuckles. "And John says he couldn't have solved the murders without your assistance."

"That's very good of him to say, but all I managed to do was get ambushed by the killer." But Ben can't help smiling.

"I'm sure there was more to it than that. You did good work, Jones. Spoil your goddaughter, let Sarah coddle you, and we'll see you back next week."

"Thank you, sir. I'll have Sergeant Winter send you a copy of my statement, and you'll have a full report this week." One thing Ben has always been good at is paperwork - neither Barnaby had the patience for the mundane tasks of police work, so he had plenty of practice.

He doesn't have anything that would pass Barnaby's muster for work - Jack Morris was strictly smart casual - but he finds a sweater that brings out the green in his eyes and a clean pair of khakis. He rubs his hand over his cheeks. Barnaby won't like it, but he's under orders from Sarah not to shave, and he knows which Barnaby frightens him more.

When he comes downstairs, though, both Sarah and Kate are gone. Barnaby sees him look around and smirks.

"They've taken Betty to the park while we take your statement," he explains. "Winter set up the tape recorder while you were preening, so we're ready whenever you are."

Ben knows this has to be done - he's a witness and a victim - but the warm feelings at seeing Kate again have washed away, and he just feels drained. It's probably a touch psychosomatic, but he can feel the headache kick up again.

They're set up at the dining room table, so he stops in the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water before sitting down across from Barnaby and Winter. He wishes he had some painkillers, but the paracetamol is upstairs, and he doesn't want Barnaby to think he's not up for the interview.

Winter turns on the recorder. "Interview with Detective Inspector Ben Jones on Monday, May 30, 2016, 3:12 pm. Detective Sergeant Jamie Winter..."

"...and Detective Chief Inspector John Barnaby in attendance." Barnaby looks over at Winter and nods for him to proceed.

"Inspector Jones, could you take us through the events leading up to the day of the C-10 final on Sunday, May 29."

Ben thinks carefully before he speaks. He's authorized to reveal general details regarding the investigation, but it won't be enough to satisfy Barnaby, he knows. His head throbs. "I was seconded in April to be part of an operation investigating a match fixing ring. They needed someone who was handy at cricket to infiltrate a C-10 team. Germaine Troughton was my local contact. I rented a room from her and she arranged for a tryout with the Lower Pampling Panthers. For the first few weeks, it was mostly acclimatization. Training with Germaine to brush up my game, getting to know the other players."

"And their wives," Winter says pointedly. Barnaby shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn't intervene.

"And their wives," Ben confirms evenly. "Leo Henderson was an obvious target for the ring, so I made a special effort to get to know him. It helped that it looked like I was just playing up to the team captain. Leo liked having a new audience for his glory tales, and he liked using me to keep the starters on their toes. But Melody was very kind to me. She introduced me to people in the village, helped me fit in."

"So when Leo was killed, you were in a good position to dig around. Is that why you went to her house?" Winter's tone isn't judgmental, but Ben feels guilty nonetheless.

"I went to her house because she was my friend and she'd just lost her husband. But when we surprised the burglar, I thought there was a good chance it might be related to the ring. Turns out I was right. It was Butler Styles looking for the bribe he'd paid Leo."

"But you didn't know that at the time," Winter confirms for the record.

"No. So when Fitz offered me Leo's position in the line-up, I made a point of telling Melody in person." He doesn't mention that he essentially demanded that position. "She was still pretty shaken up, so I offered to spend the night on the sofa." He doesn't want any ambiguity on the official record.

"Because you were being a good friend." Winter sounds as disbelieving as Ben would have been in his place.

"Because it gave me the opportunity to search Leo's office." Jack Morris was her friend. Ben Jones was just doing his job. He likes Jack Morris a lot better.

"That's where you found the bag containing five thousand pounds," Barnaby interjects.

Winter nods as if making a connection. "Which our team missed."

"Which your team missed," Ben reiterated, happy to score at least one point on the home team. "It seemed to tie Leo to the match fixing scheme, but he'd essentially won the quarter-finals single-handedly, so either there was another explanation for the money, or he'd reneged on the deal. Leo was a great captain, but he had an ego the size of Everest, so I guessed the latter."

He drums his fingers on the table, easing into the narrative. "With Leo dead, the next likely candidate for match fixing was Fitz, so I kept an eye on him during the semi-finals. He bowled five wides, which was outrageous for a bowler of his calibre."

"So the bet was on the number of wides."

"Right. I confronted him about it after the match, and he tried to recruit me. When he was killed that night, I thought it was because I refused. That's when I got authorization to bring Causton CID in. Things were getting too big to handle on my own."

"And who gave that authorization?" Barnaby is leaning forward now, looking almost predatory. "Brighton?"

Ben knows that he's daring him to lie and is grateful for the warning phone call. "If DCS Hicks hasn't told you, then I can't answer that."

He's rewarded with a slight tilt of the head. "We'll assume it wasn't Brighton then." Barnaby always has to have the last word. "What happened next?"

"Butler Styles approached me the next day. Said he knew Fitz had talked to me. I told him I wasn't interested, but he dropped a bag of money on Germaine's doorstep that night." Thirty thousand pounds just to blow an over. Ben can see how players might be tempted. "I told Butler I would only deal with the top dog, so I got a text that night to meet at the cricket grounds."

He remembers walking onto the field, heart pounding with anticipation and fear. Two months' work finally coming to fruition. "They played silly buggers with the scoreboard for a bit and then Wade walked out. I couldn't believe it. He'd never even pinged my radar."

"He wasn't on our radar either," Barnaby comments.

Ben shakes his head. The contact had to be connected with the team somehow; the manager was an obvious choice. He'd read everything wrong. "He told me I had two options. Fix the match or he'd fix me. Then he made me team captain." He smirks at Winter, remembering their conversation. "Not part of the plan."

"Based on that we were able to arrest Butler, but Wade got the wind up. Fortunately, Kia was more than happy to help us set a trap."

Ben nods. "I appreciate the help."

"Well, you had a match to win, didn't you," Winter says with a grin. "Except when we got to the match, you weren't there."

"I was getting my kit out in the locker room when someone hit me from behind. Next thing I knew, I was tied to the turf installer, and Germaine was pacing around with a cricket bat." Ben keeps his voice flat, unemotional. It's his court voice and he longs for his notebook, if only as a prop.

"It must have taken time for her to get you there and string you up." Barnaby interjects. "The match had already started when Sarah told us you weren't on the field. How did no one raise the alarm sooner? Surely the team noticed that their captain was missing."

Ben had wondered the same thing, until he talked to his teammates after the match. "They got a message from 'Jack' that he'd tweaked his knee and wouldn't be able to start."

"Germaine must have seen your passcode at some point or used your finger for Touch ID," Barnaby says.

Ben doesn't have Touch ID active on his phone, but two months of living together gave Germaine any number of opportunities to watch him unlock his phone. "It meant I could sub back in," Ben says. "She gave herself the chance to change her mind."

Barnaby glances at Winter, and Ben can see that neither of them believe that.

"If she really wanted to kill me, she would have finished me off in the locker room, taken me away in my car, dumped my body, and messaged the team that I'd been pressured to throw the match and couldn't go through with it. She gave us both a chance to carry on with our lives." He knows he's only trying to convince himself. More likely it was just the first plausible explanation for his absence Germaine could come up with. She lost the chance to carry on the moment she set the bowling machine on Leo.

"Was that the first you realized who attacked you?" Barnaby leads the questioning back on track, which means he disagrees with Ben's analysis, but is going to let him keep his illusions.

Ben lets himself drift back. He remembers fragments. Hands shoving him, then hoisting him up on the A-frame. Ropes rubbing his wrists, straining his shoulders. Then swimming up to full consciousness, at first aware only of pain, then a sense of not being alone.

"I thought Wade had broken my cover. Then when I realized it was a woman, I thought it was Serena warning me off Melody again."

"What do you mean, again?" Barnaby interjects. "Is that how you got the bruise on your side?"

Ben instinctively touches his stomach. He hadn't even noticed the bruise until the next day. It hadn't registered at the time. He'd been outraged, not injured. "She came to see me at the practice net before the semi-finals. Told me to stay away from Melody and then shot some balls at me. It was no big deal."

"Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" Barnaby demands. "You said you would share any relevant information."

"It wasn't relevant. Serena was just protecting her friend."

"Leo was killed with the bowling machine. He cheated on Melody. You don't see a pattern there?"

"That was twenty years ago. If Serena had wanted to kill me, trust me, I'd be dead. If I thought there was a connection, I would have told you." But it's another mistake he can mark in his mental record of the case

"Like you told me you were in Midsomer."

Barnaby said he understood, but that obviously isn't true. Ben takes a deep breath and holds it, then exhales slowly. It's a calming technique he's learned over the years. It rarely works, but it usually keeps him from saying things he might later regret.

Winter glances between Ben and Barnaby and decides to intervene. "But it wasn't Serena, it was Germaine."

Ben nods gratefully. "It didn't make sense. She knew all about the investigation. She wanted the match fixing stopped almost as much as she wanted C-10 stopped."

"But the murders weren't about match fixing," Barnaby says, the flash of anger burned away. "I told you there was no way you could have known."

"Right." Ben tries to refocus himself on his statement. "When I realized it was her, I asked what she was doing. I told her she wouldn't get away with it." He closes his eyes, remembering. "She didn't say anything, just paced back and forth. Then my phone rang. It must have fallen out of my pocket when she strung me up. I thought she would hit me then, but she just smashed the phone with the bat."

"What happened next?"

Barnaby is letting Winter take the lead again. When Ben glances at him, he sees Barnaby is not even trying to hide his concern. It makes him feel a little better.

"She paced some more. I told her if she let me go, I would speak on her behalf, but she said it was too late for that. She raised the bat to swing again, but at the last second she hit the post next to me." He swallows and takes another deep breath. "That happened a couple of times and I could see she didn't really want to hurt me."

"People do things they don't want to do all the time," Barnaby says darkly.

"Yeah, well, I tried to keep her talking, but she was in no mood to confess. I guess I don't have your magic touch."

"I find murderers tend to confess when they have nothing left to lose or don't expect to have a witness remaining," Barnaby replies. "Maybe you're right. Maybe she couldn't bring herself to kill you. Leo destroyed her daughter's life. Fitz tried to blackmail her. But you hadn't done anything other than leave your jacket lying around."

Ben shakes his head. "And find her out. Even though I hadn't." He still can't picture the missing stump, doesn't remember ever seeing it, though he must have. "She was winding up to swing again, so I said her grip was all wrong. That's when you walked in." He remembers cringing away from the expected blow and sagging with relief when he heard Barnaby's voice.

He drops his head in his hands, rubbing his temples.

"I think he's had enough," he hears Winter say, but he straightens up and shakes his head.

"I'm okay,"' he says. "I keep trying to understand why Germaine thought I'd figured it out. She said it was because of the way I looked at her that morning. But all we did was talk about how I'd washed my kit for once and hung up my jacket."

"Usually women want to kill you when you don't tidy up," Winter quips, and Ben begins to understand why the Barnabys were annoyed by his jokes.

"I asked her if she was going to wish me luck," Ben continues. "I felt bad, because I didn't think the C-10 vote would go her way, and maybe part of the reason was how I played in the semi-final." He remembers how he felt. Excited about the final, pleased about cracking the case, worried about Germaine, sad that it might be the last time he saw her.

He sees Winter and Barnaby exchange a glance. "You must be a terrible poker player," Winter says. "I'm not sure that expression says I know you're a murderer, but it definitely says goodbye."

"And I'm sorry," Barnaby adds.

Ben rubs his eyes. The headache has receded to a dull throb, but he just feels tired and sad.

"Interview ended at 3:32pn." Winter turns off the recorder and disappears into the kitchen.

Ben can hear water running and the gas stove catch. "Tea?" he says with a faint smile.

"The English answer to all that ails," Barnaby replies. "I'm sorry as well. If we'd told you about Cilla, you might have got more from Germaine. Or at least been on guard."

Ben shakes his head. "Cilla wasn't relevant to my investigation. There was no need to tell me. I should have noticed the missing stump, though. I made a mess of that." He looks down at the table,

Barnaby knocks on the table to get his attention. "Look at me. You did more than you know. You brought us the wreath that led us to Cilla. And if Germaine had tried to kill anyone else, we never would have tracked them in time. I hate that you were hurt, but we wouldn't have had a confession otherwise."

Ben knows Barnaby would have cracked the case eventually, but at least he can take comfort that no one else would have been in danger in the meantime.

"The thing is, Germaine Troughton was by all accounts a hard woman. Turned her pregnant daughter away without a word. Refused to contact her for twenty years. But you told me she was kind to you. She did your laundry, fed you, nagged you about hanging up your jacket. I think maybe she saw you as a second chance. You let her be a mother again."

Ben can follow that path straight to Leo's death. Opening up Germaine's heart had led her to rage and revenge, not love. "So you're saying I turned her into a murderer."

Barnaby gives him the look he always reserved for Ben's least intelligent observations. "Her guilt and Leo's arrogance did that. You showed her what might still be possible. You led her back to Cilla and that better life they might have had."

He wishes they could have had that life. He imagines Cilla's son growing up in that big house, playing cricket on the green, Cilla safe, and Germaine loved. Maybe Cilla and her son can still have that life. But it will always be fractured, never whole. He spends his life sifting through the remains of broken lives, sometimes putting the pieces together, but mostly just scattering them further apart.

Winter plunks the tea tray down on the table. "If it's alright with you sir, I'll take the tape to the station to get it transcribed. I told Kam I'd pick her up, so I can swing by on the way."

"It will be nice to get to know her better," Ben says innocently, and sees Barnaby purse his lips to keep from smiling.

Winter clearly knows he's being teased, but he still protests. "Just remember, you have your own pathologist."

"We're just friends," Ben says automatically. Friends that have occasionally snogged at parties, but strictly speaking, friends nonetheless.

"Was he this dim when he worked for you?" Winter asks.

Barnaby sighs. "Unfortunately, yes."

"I think I'd know if I were in a relationship," Ben protests. He doesn't like how quickly the conversation turned on him.

"Kam wouldn't drive two hours just to check up on me," Winter says, a little forlornly.

"She might if you hadn't returned her calls and turned up at the other end of the country from where you were supposed to be. Thanks for that, by the way," he accuses Barnaby.

Barnaby just chuckles. This time Ben isn't pleased to have caused it. He's even less pleased when Barnaby passes his phone to Winter.

"Tell me you haven't sent this to Kam," Winter moans. "I can't compete with that."

"Fear not, Winter. You have enough obstacles to surmount without me adding to your burden."

Ben tries not to smile. It somehow makes him feel better knowing that Barnaby needles all his sergeants.

"Hold her hair while she throws up," Winter says, gathering up the tape recorder. "That was the advice Dr. Wilding gave me."

Barnaby laughs, but a memory wriggles free from the back of Ben's mind, bringing with it something like hope.

"Kam never gets drunk," Winter adds mournfully.

"There's always food poisoning or stomach flu," Barnaby suggests.

Winter wrinkles his nose in distaste, and Ben thinks there's a long way between attraction and devotion. He pours out the tea and adds a healthy dollop of milk and sugar to his mug, just to make Barnaby smile. He'll never admit it, but he does find it comforting.