A/N: Thanks to LauraRaposa for editing. I own nothing but do hope you will enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 14

Ten minutes past the appointed time, Sgt. Paul Milner rang his boss. Foyle, who had eaten breakfast and fetched a newspaper from around the corner, began to pace in the hallway a few minutes before 9 a.m. so he could answer the phone on the first ring and not wake Andrew.

"Foyle, here."

"Good morning, sir," said Milner. "Superintendent Reid said you wanted me to ring you this morning?"

"Yes, Milner. I assume he told you that I will be off until Monday?"

"Yes, sir, he did." There was slight pause as Milner decided if he should inquire about the reason for his boss' time off. When the sergeant didn't elaborate, Foyle cleared his throat.

"I wanted to see how the investigation was coming along, Milner. Have there been any other incidents at the hospital?"

For the next 10 minutes Milner brought Foyle up to speed on everything that had happened over the past two days and the leads he had pursued in his usual thorough and efficient manner.

Foyle listened carefully. A small part of his brain registered with pleasure how different Milner was now compared to the disheartened, injured soldier he recruited from a hospital bed.

"Well, it sounds like you've got things well in hand as always, Sergeant," said Foyle.

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, what about the housekeeper," asked Foyle. "Have you found anything there? She would have had the best access it would appear."

"I thought the same, sir," Milner replied before he and his boss launched into their thoughts about the best course of action to solve the case.

"Very good, Sergeant. Make sure you take a constable with you for the interviews and let Mr. Reid or myself know how things are progressing."

"Yes, will do, sir," said Milner. He paused again, and then asked with some hesitation, "Sir, I know it's none of my business, but are you alright? Sam is worried sick and Mr. Reid wouldn't say."

Foyle was touched by the concern in his sergeant's voice and had to smile at the tenacity of his inquisitive and imaginative driver.

"Yes, Milner, I'm fine, thank you," said Foyle. "Do tell Sam not to worry. Err, Andrew's got a spot of unexpected leave and Hugh has been kind enough to look after things for me at the station while he's home."

"That's excellent, sir," said Milner, cheered by the news. But then he paused.

In a much more subdued voice, the sergeant asked, "Andrew is alright, isn't he, sir? I mean, it's not injury leave?"

"Yes, he's alright, more or less. Just needed a bit a break from the thick of things you know." Foyle paused for a minute hoping he hadn't said more than he should. But those fears were quickly assuaged by the compassion and understanding in Milner's voice.

"I certainly understand, sir, and I'm very glad that he's been able to get away from his duties for a few days."

Foyle knew Milner understood. Like Andrew and Foyle, he had seen firsthand the brutality of war, but unlike the Foyles, his war wounds were more physical than emotional. He had left the bottom half of his leg on a battlefield in Trondheim.

The Detective Chief Superintendent would never forget what Milner had told him the first day he visited him in hospital. The despondent corporal painted vivid images of the battle that were sadly reminiscent of Foyle's own wartime experience yet different. Foyle shook his head to clear it.

"Yes, right, make sure you have Sam drive you where you need to go, and tell her that she's welcome to go home to Lyminster at the weekend if you don't need her," said the DCS with humor in his voice. "But I expect her to be 'present and correct' at my door at 8 sharp on Monday morning."

"Yes, sir, I'll tell her," laughed Milner.

"Sounds like you've got things under control, Sergeant, but you are welcome to ring or drop by if something urgent comes up."

"Thank you, sir, but I don't think it will be necessary."

"Right, well, I'll leave you to it then," said Foyle.

"Thank you, sir," said Milner as he rang off. "See you on Monday."

Foyle hung up the phone and stood in the hall with hands in his trouser pockets to hear if his telephone conversation disturbed Andrew. He picked up the sound of light snoring, and took that as a cue to repair to the kitchen for a cuppa.

By late morning, Foyle had read the newspaper cover to cover – including the football scores – then got out his fly-tying tackle. He could do with a few new flies if he and Andrew went down to the river over the next few days.