The drive to Bath was completed in total silence. Hathaway piloted the Vauxhall, and with the help of his GPS they found Alice Spooner without any trouble. She was the only person for whom they had any contact information. She opened the door with a smile, a lovely woman in her late fifties with the kind of quiet beauty that comes from kindness and wisdom, rather than glamorous good looks.

When they were settled with a cup of tea and some cake, she explained how she and her late husband had been close with the Greens. They enjoyed each other's company in countless adventures and good times. Mr. Spooner died about seven years earlier, and when Joanna Green died, Alice sought out Jacob Green's company for her sake as well as his. For quite some time they simply did nice things together, dining and going for walks.

But this past year, on her birthday, they came back to her house after having a lovely dinner out. She was feeling a little sorry for herself and quite lonely, and she knew Jacob often felt the same way. She sat next to Jacob on the sofa and then started to kiss him. At first, he responded. But suddenly he jumped up and fairly ran from the room. She never heard from him again. He refused to answer the telephone and would not reply to her letters.

"I blame myself, really. I should have realized he needed more time to get used to the idea that it isn't wrong to want intimacy, physically as well as emotionally, even though Joanna was gone. Everyone needs comfort, you know. The chance to make love, not just to have it. I should have pointed out to him that Joanna herself would have wanted him to be happy. It would have broken her heart to know he died so alone."

On the drive home, Hathaway reflected that Lewis hadn't said a single word the whole visit, except to thank Mrs. Spooner in a rather hoarse voice. He glanced over at the passenger seat. Lewis sat with his head tipped back, mouth agape. Snoring a little. Well, that was probably what he needed most.

Some time later, Lewis's phone rang. It did not wake him up, and Hathaway couldn't get to it while he was driving. Shortly after it fell silent, James's own phone buzzed. Hobson calling. Normally, James would not answer his phone while he was driving but, then, things were definitely not normal these days.

"Hi, what's up? I'm driving."

"I have your post-mortem. I tried calling Lewis but he didn't answer." She added, "I'm a bit worried after the way he seemed to shut down this morning."

"He's right here, sound asleep."

"Oh, thank God." Laura sounded as if she'd been more than just "a bit" worried.

She continued. "Jacob Green definitely died of cardiac arrest. He wouldn't have died instantly but probably was too dizzy to get to a telephone. Absolutely no evidence of criminal involvement. Death occurred, I'd say, ten days ago." She paused. "Late Friday night or early Saturday morning."

James was silent as he considered the coincidence of the timing.

"James?"

"Mmmm?"

"Hard copy will be on your desk in an hour. Call me later when you can talk, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Thanks. Bye."

Hathaway worked on the report studiously when they returned to the office. There wasn't really much to report, since it turned out to be just a sad, natural death. Lewis seemed to be writing in his little notebook, but James did not want to look at him too directly. Even making eye contact felt invasive at this point. The man could not have missed the day's lesson.

Innocent kept cruising past their office, clearly lacking an excuse to ask them how they were getting on. Finally, Lewis called out, "Ma'am, you'll have the report before the end of the day. Was there anything else you wanted?"

She was a bit flustered at getting caught. "No, take your time. I understand it's not a police matter after all?"

"That's right, ma'am."

Hathaway soon turned over the finished product. Uncharacteristically, Lewis read it slowly and carefully, even rereading some of it. Finally, he signed it and got up to take it to her. As he passed Hathaway's chair, Lewis laid a hand on his partner's shoulder for a moment.

"Thanks, Jim." Then he went out.

Hathaway took a big breath and blew out his cheeks. Clearly, Lewis had reached a new phase, one much more pleasant for James but harder to read. He set his teeth resolutely and when Lewis returned, faced him directly.

"Sir, I want to apologize for—"

"Oh, no, Hathaway. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I've been a right bastard to you ever since . . . well, you know when. I was wrong to be angry at you for what I considered poking into my business. The welfare of people we care about is always our business. I know you and Hobson were only trying to help me."

James sat absolutely still. Lewis continued.

"I tried to write some of this down—" he gestured toward his notebook "—but I'm not very good at complicated emotional stuff. It's just . . . I'd have to be daft to be the same man I was when I got up this morning, wouldn't I?"

Although his eyes looked unbearably sad, he gave a tiny smile and asked, "Could you use a pint?"