James could not have concealed the exhaustion that haunted his face with anything less than the attire of a plague doctor. Laura looked up and gave him a smile which turned instantly to concern. "Feeling alright, James?"

James frowned and jutted his chin forward slightly in annoyance, "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Oh sorry, got the wrong one. Mistook this lot for the corpse. The blood fooled me for a moment but now that you turned up, I see the dead do walk. "

James quirked his lips slightly to acknowledge her humor and concern. "Restless night. I'm fine, thank you. What have you got?" He waited as she let her eyes twinkle. "The actual body, doctor."

She started to say something more but changed her mind and began apprising him of the details. Lizzy Maddox and Robbie Lewis arrived together and joined in for the tail end of Laura's initial findings, "so this was not an accident because of the ligature marks on his ankles. His feet were bound and his hands have adhesive residue but no abrasions. When you fall, you reach out and try to break the impact. Hands, elbows, knees all catch the devil. This is murder dressed up as a clumsy mishap. His face took the full impact of the fountain. Didn't die instantly, but was more than likely unconscious as death crept up. May have died of the wound, may have drowned. It's a toss up until I get him to the morgue. They stood and watched or waited for him to get here. Ciggy butts in the grass. Plus, he has no ID."

"Oh, Christ." Robbie suddenly cursed.

James turned and at once understood the look on Robbie's face. "You know him?"

Robbie stood and nodded, pulling a face and giving a heavy sigh. "I knew of him. Name's Timothy Perry. His picture is all over. Estate Agent."

James held his breath for a moment as he searched for the name in his memory. His chin lifted as he realized where he'd seen the name recently. "Must have sold the wrong house."

Robbie kept his face blank as he replied, "Aye, he bloody well tried once. For certain."

The body had been transported and James was delegating who would notify the family and begin preliminary questions to friends and associates. It was lunch time and Robbie headed to Lizzy's car when James called across the car park, "With me please, Robert."

Lewis narrowed his eyes and glanced an apologetic look at Maddox before ambling across the way, hands shoved in his pockets in slow annoyed protest. James smirked as his former Governor flopped into the seat next to him and took out his frustration on the seatbelt coupling. "Where to, Sir?" Robbie asked facetiously.

"Pub, Lewis. We have some thinking to do." Hathaway said enjoying the startled response from Lewis.

By the time they had reached the pub, the atmosphere had gone from astonishment to a tetchy silent anger. All it had taken was Hathaway saying two words on the way. "Mill Cottage."

Hathaway glared at Robbie and Robbie glowered firmly at the bottom of his pint. Hathaway had much less patience with Robbie's moods since his promotion. "Should I bring in Innocent on this? Or shall we do this as friends?"

Robbie snorted and looked to the left at a group of colleagues out for a quick meal and a few laughs.

James waited. His face was perfectly blank as his heart broke.

"You saw them too. His tattoos? Occult symbols of protection, no?"

Robbie just shrugged in disgust and glared at James.

"Okay. Yesterday, you were within your rights to keep your own council on this subject. That changed four hours ago when a name in your players club turned up with his head bashed in by a killer fountain. My options just narrowed at your response to my counting on years of what I mistakenly called friendship. Apologies for the error." James stood and threw his keys on the table. "Take the car. I need a walk."

"You need to sleep and get over your…" James didn't hear the last of Robbie's words.

He had nearly sprinted the first two blocks without seeing anything but red. His mind whirled and saw only that he had misjudged the warmth Lewis had extended him all these years. Hell, the man didn't even consider him a friend enough to confide in him.

A voice called to him in distress and startled him back into the present a split second before near tragedy.

A car horn, brakes screaming and a hard bump on his leg, knocked him to the pavement hard and stunned him back to reality. He waved off the driver and a bloke who helped him to his feet. He shooed them away, both offering the vague apology and wincing slightly at the pain as he put weight on the leg. He had to appear sheepishly embarrassed but fine in order to assuage the concern of the few onlookers who had witnessed his stupidity. He was even less pleased to be suddenly joined by the man who wasn't there and firmly shuffled away from the mishap.

"Well. As much as I will be pleased for you to join me, Lewis-cub, I never imagined you incapable of the advanced concept of street crossing."

James looked down at Morse and barely moving his lips said low and fiercely, "May as well get on with it. I know what you are."

"Don't talk to me in public. They will have you carted up to Radcliffe for unimaginably boring tests and food. Trust me on this one, you don't want to know." Morse said with a smirk and a wink.

James walked on silently, his companion keeping up though he didn't seem to be matching his pace. "Here! I need a drink and you are the best hope I have." Morse's cold arm took hold of his and James allowed himself to be guided into a little pub and stood with Morse as the ghost ordered whisky to the back of the barman.

The man evidently heard Morse and assumed the voice belonged to Hathaway. He set the glass on the bar and poured. James paid for it and let Morse guide him to a table that had a high back bench and a view of the street.

"There now. Get that in you and you will feel better," Morse said soothingly.

James complied, taking a large swallow and shivering as it went down. "Not really the whisky sort," He admitted softly.

"He is right. You need sleep. You handled him all wrong," Morse said.

"Doesn't really matter," Hathaway replied.

"What's gotten into you? You're acting all…Me!"

"I understand you a bit more. I don't blame you. For…just letting it…go. I am such a stupid fool."

Morse frowned, "You will have to be more specific."

James swallowed another gulp. "I always thought he and I were friends at least. Not that I ever deserved it."

Morse sighed and acted put upon. "Oh for God's sake. He bloody adores you. Don't get your knickers in a twist over that. You're the one getting him off balance throwing my words at him and then pushing him like a suspect. Finish that and then we will go kiss and make up."

Hathaway finished the glass and set it on the table. He felt in his pockets for breath mints and sighed that he came up empty handed. He waited a few more moments before resolve and pure will got him back on his feet and off toward the nick. He'd almost walked off the limp by the time he got there and he felt warm and had a slight buzz from alcohol and exercise.

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