Kathleen shook her head wearily. “It's all in the definition, I dare say” She nodded at his mobile. “Are you off again, then?”
“Afraid so, darling.”
“What about the s-w-i-n-g-s?”
“I'll have the set up in time. I promise.” He took the carrots away from his daughters, grabbed a dish cloth from the sink, and mopped up some of the mess they'd made on the kitchen table.
His wife cooed, crooned, and comforted PJ. Bella and Sarah made tentative peace.
After directing DC Mott to paw through everything they'd taken from the murder site, and after phoning the lab to make sure Terry Cole's jacket hadn't been accidentally omitted from the list of clothing sent onward for analysis, Hanken set off to duel with Will Upman once more. He found the solicitor in the narrow garage that abutted his home in Buxton. He was casually clad in jeans and a flannel shirt, and he squatted next to a fine-looking mountain bike whose chain and gear cluster he was attending to with a hose pipe, a small spray bottle of solvent, and a plastic bristle brush with one end shaped like a crescent.
He wasn't alone. Leaning against the bonnet of his car, her eyes fixed on him with the unmistakable hunger of a woman desperate for a commitment, a petite brunette was saying to him, “You did say half past twelve, Will. And I know I'm not mistaken this time,” as Hanken joined them.
Upman said, “I couldn't have done, darling. I'd always planned to clean the bike. So if you're ready for lunch this early—”
“It isn't early. And it'll be even less early by the time we get there. Damn it. If you didn't want to go, I just wish you'd have told me for once.”
“Joyce, did I say … did I even bloody hint that—” Upman caught sight of Hanken. “Inspector,” he said, rising and tossing the hose pipe to one side, where it burbled water in a gentle stream from the garage out onto the driveway “Joyce, this is Inspector Hanken, Buxton CID Could you deal with the tap for me, darling?”
Joyce sighed and saw to the water. She returned to the car and took up position in front of one of its headlamps. “Will,” she said. I've been patient as a saint, her tone implied.
Upman flashed a smile at her. “Work,” he said with a jerk of his head in Hanken's direction. “Will you give us a few minutes, Joy? Let's forget the lunch and have something here. We can drive over to Chatsworth afterwards. Have a walk. Do some talking.”
“I have to pick up the kids.”
“By six. I remember. And we'll manage it. No problem.” Again the smile. It was more intimate this time, the kind of smile that a man uses when he wishes to suggest to a woman that he and she speak a special language understood only by the two of them. It was mostly the language of bollocks, Hanken decided, but Joyce looked needy enough to accept the central theme such a language implied. “Could you make us some sandwiches, darling? While I'm finishing here? There's chicken in the fridge.” Upman didn't mention Han-ken's presence or the privacy that Joyce's removal to the kitchen would effect.
Joyce sighed again. “All right. This once. But I wish you'd start writing down the time when you want me to come over. With the kids, it's not exactly easy to—”
“Will do in future. Scout's honour.” He sent her an air kiss. “Sorry.”
She took it all in. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother,” she said with absolutely no conviction.
We all know the answer to that, Hanken thought.
When she'd taken herself off to prove herself in the housewife department, Upman went back to his mountain bike. He squatted and sprayed solvent lightly on the gear cluster and along the chain. The pleasant smell of lemons rose round them. He spun the left pedal backwards as he sprayed, running the chain through one revolution round the gears and, when it was soaked, he leaned back on his heels.
“I can't think we have anything more to talk about,” he said to Hanken. “I've told you what I know.”
“Right. And I've got what you know. I want to hear what you think this time round.”
Upman took up the plastic brush from the floor. “About what?” he asked.
“The Maiden girl moved house in London four months ago. She left law college round the same time, and she had no plans to return to her studies. She had, in fact, taken up an entirely new line of work. What do you know about that?”
“About the new line of work? Nothing, I'm afraid.”
“So why was she spending the summer doing the sort of job a law student takes in between terms for work experience? It wasn't going to get her anywhere, was it?”
“I don't know. I didn't ask her those questions.” Upman applied the brush to the bicycle chain, meticulous with his cleaning efforts.
“Did you know she'd left college?” Hanken asked. And when Upman nodded, he said, exasperated, “God's teeth, man. What's the matter with you? Why didn't you tell us when we spoke to you yesterday?”