Murder of a Dead Man by Katherine John

the balcony’s wrought iron scrollwork into the room. Lyn was lying on her side, the duvet pulled to her chin, her eyes closed. He picked up the alarm from his bedside table and carried it into the bathroom lest the noise of setting it disturb her. Too tired to shower, he stripped off his clothes, threw them into the linen basket and cleaned his teeth. Inching back the duvet he lay alongside Lyn, waiting for his body to warm to her temperature before daring to touch her. But sleep overtook him before he summoned the courage to place his arm around her waist.
    The alarm woke him. He fumbled for his clock only to realise the ringing had come from Lyn’s side of the bed. He turned over and saw her back disappearing through the bathroom door. He went into the other bathroom. Since early morning shifts had created problems, he had kept a selection of his toiletries in there. He heard her splashing in the bath as he showered. Perhaps if he dressed quickly and made breakfast it would go some way towards appeasing her.
    Five minutes later, dressed in light-coloured slacks and dark open-necked shirt he opened the fridge door. Nothing but party leftovers. He moved the cling-film back from a salad bowl. It would last today but no longer. He took out eggs, butter and coffee, scrambled the eggs, put bread in the toaster, and had it all ready, waiting on the table when she came downstairs.
    ‘Breakfast?’ he held his breath, hoping she’d smile.
    ‘I haven’t time.’
    ‘It’s only six-thirty.’
    ‘I promised to pick one of the girls up. Her car broke down yesterday.’
    ‘How about toast? It’s already buttered.’ He offered her the plate.
    She took one. ‘What time will you be home tonight?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Then you won’t mind if I go to the cinema with the girls.’
    ‘No, I won’t mind. Lyn –’
    ‘Talk to you later. Must go.’ Leaving half the toast on the table she ran out through the door.
    He looked at the breakfast he’d prepared, picked up the plates and scraped them into the bin. It wasn’t until he went upstairs to make the bed that he noticed the gift wrapped box on his bedside table.
    He left it where it was.
     
    ‘Where first?’ Anna asked Peter as she switched on the route finder in the car.
    ‘Crawley Woods station for a courtesy call,’
    Peter suggested. ‘We’ll be operating in their territory.’
    ‘Dan gave us copies of their files last night.’
    ‘There are always things that aren’t in the files.
    Trevor got some of them last night from the chap who’d been in charge of the investigation.’
    ‘You telephoned Trevor?’
    ‘At seven.’
    ‘Disturbing the love birds.’
    ‘Lyn was already at work.’
    ‘I’ve a feeling that one’s about to fly the nest.’
    ‘That’s Trevor’s business, not ours.’
    ‘We’re all in the same boat. I’ve four long-term broken relationships. Word is you’ve been married…’
    ‘What’s this? Auntie Anna’s marriage guidance hour?’
    ‘Don’t you ever wish you were a civilian with a nice, normal job and a regular home life?’
    ‘Only when I’m sharing a car with a female sergeant who practises psychology for beginners.’
    ‘Go on Peter, admit it. You miss a woman in your life.’
    ‘Only sexually, and if you’re offering…’
    ‘I’m not offering anything at this hour.’
    ‘Pity, I know of a nice little lay-by.’
    ‘I outgrew car sex in my teens.’
    ‘A staid lady.’
    ‘Staid nothing…’
    ‘We’re here.’ He steered the car through a set of gates into a parking bay. ‘First stop files to check nothing was missed last night.’
    ‘I hate checking,’ she grumbled.
    ‘Then you should have stuck to housework, instead of joining the force,’ Peter retorted.
     
    ‘Just the people I want to see.’ Bill waylaid Dan and Trevor when they entered the station.
    ‘Not for long, I hope,’ Dan said. ‘We’re on our way to the mortuary.’
    ‘Aren’t we all,’ Bill quipped.
    ‘Not this week, I