---

With Shearer and his men in the office, and her team fully occupied, Robyn headed downstairs to the staff locker room to change into her running gear. She needed to collect her thoughts, and running usually allowed her to ruminate.

She pounded the empty pavements, past Stafford Hospital, hidden behind thick bushes, and the large university campus, dotted with flats and large brick buildings, where Harry McKenzie worked, before turning into a road that would pass housing estates and Leafy Lane, where she lived. She’d run this same route more times than she cared to remember. It would take her thirty minutes in total; time enough to reflect on what she knew.

Lost in thought, she didn’t register her surroundings. As she ran, they became a familiar blur of front gardens, houses and parked cars. Her focus was on Henry and Tessa. Both had kept secrets. Both were dead. Had Henry and Tessa been involved in a relationship, or was Roger the father of Tessa’s baby? The questions mounted up and still she couldn’t find the answers.

She leapt from a pavement, jogged across the road and bounded onto the opposite pavement that led to her home. She ran on, oblivious to the black BMW parked behind a silver van opposite her house, her mind now on Henry’s friend, Liam, and his partner Ella. Ella had disliked Tessa too. Like Naomi, she’d warned Tessa off her man. Jealousy and love – two very powerful emotions that drove people to commit heinous acts.

Seeing Schrödinger wasn’t in his usual spot on the window ledge, she drew to a halt on a whim and decided to check on him. It wouldn’t take a minute.

She slipped the key into the door and called for him. When he didn’t appear, she went inside, removed her trainers and checked the sitting room and kitchen before heading upstairs. She found him languishing on her bed, where he stretched indolently and then purred contentedly as she lifted him to her face.

‘You lazy boy,’ she murmured, planting a kiss on his head. Cradling him against her, she stood in front of her bedroom window and gazed onto the garden below. It wasn’t much of a garden, but if she put some effort into it in springtime, she and Schrödinger would be able to enjoy it in the sunshine. She was about to return him to the warm spot on the bed when a movement outside caught her eye and she froze. A man in dark clothing was slipping back out from the garden, through the side gate that led onto the street.

She put down the cat and bounded down the stairs to catch up with the intruder. She raced out the front door in her socks and onto the pavement, but was in time only to see the rear end of a BMW pull away and join the main road.

She cursed loudly and returned inside, pulled on her trainers and checked to see if the back gate had been forced open. It hadn’t. However, it was unlocked, and Robyn was certain she hadn’t left it like that. With shaking hands, she rang Ross.

‘Hey,’ said Ross.

‘Somebody broke into my back garden and was hanging about outside the house. I came home unexpectedly and frightened them off, I think. Might have been a burglar, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it. The back gate was unlocked. I ran after him but he’d gone. I couldn’t see anyone, only a black BMW. It pulled out of my road and into traffic, headed towards the town centre.’

‘Registration?’

‘I didn’t get it. Shit, Ross, I was so shocked I couldn’t think straight and I wasn’t quick enough. I caught sight of the person but only for a second. Ross, I think it could have been Davies. He was about the same height and had dark hair.’

‘Robyn, calm down. If it’d been Davies, why would he have sped off?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! You’re right. I’m behaving like a madwoman. It’s because of what Amélie told me.’

‘Well, you can put that out of your mind. I’m over at the CineBowl at the moment, and I’ve shown his photograph to almost everyone who works here. No one has recognised him, or seen him here. Amélie was imagining it. Much like you. It happens.’

‘Yeah. I guess so.’

‘You probably disturbed somebody casing out your place for a robbery, or a chancer. I’m going to come round and install some top-of-the-range spy cameras. I’ll put one inside the house and another outside. That way, if anybody else comes around, we’ll see who it is.’

‘Would you? I’ll pay you for them.’

‘I’ll give you a generous, ex-employee discount,’ he joked. ‘Seriously, I’m concerned somebody’s got into your garden. That lock on the gate is one of the most sophisticated on the market, and totally impregnable. I can’t see how they unlocked it.’

‘Do you think he could be somebody connected to Davies? The photo… the flowers… and now he’s checking out my home.’

‘Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll treat it as a potential break-in for the moment. I’ll see if there are any fingerprints or other clues left behind. Don’t worry. I’ll come over immediately. I’ve got your spare house key, so you don’t need to stay at home. I’ll fit the spy surveillance cameras. You know how they work, don’t you?’

‘Are they the same ones we used when I worked with you?’ Robyn had spent a year working with her cousin before returning to the force and it had been exactly what she needed to get back on her feet.

‘The very same.’

‘Oh, fuck it, Ross. I don’t need this shit.’

Ross’s voice was calming. ‘Come on, Robyn, this is nothing compared to what you’ve faced in the past. We’re probably reading too much into it. You might have forgotten to lock the gate, what with your mind on other things. It could have been no more than an opportunist who tried your gate, found it open and wandered in to see what he could steal. He saw you and ran away.’

Robyn huffed. Had she locked the gate? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it. Was it when she took the wheelie bin out, last Wednesday? They’d been really busy with the investigation that day. She might have forgotten to secure the gate in her haste to get to the office.

‘What about the BMW? It seemed to speed off.’

‘Cars go up and down your road all the time at speed. Might not be connected in any way at all.’

Robyn rubbed at her forehead. Her hand was clammy now with sweat and exertion. ‘Yeah. You could be right. I’m getting worked up. It was such a shock. That’s all. If I hadn’t stopped off, he might have broken into the house.’

‘Well, he’d not have stolen anything. You’ve got that top-of-the-range house alarm fitted, haven’t you? That would’ve gone off.’

‘It wasn’t turned on. I didn’t alarm the place because of the cat.’

‘Robyn!’ Ross sounded exasperated. ‘You need to take more care.’

‘I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. My mind’s been on the investigations.’

Ross sighed. ‘There’s a setting that allows pets to move around the house freely and not trigger the alarm. I’ll programme it for you. First, I’ll head to the office, collect the cameras and then get cracking. Want me to get that gate lock changed while I’m at it?’

‘Would you? It’ll give me peace of mind. Thanks, Ross. You’re a diamond.’

‘Take it easy, Robyn,’ said Ross, his voice filled with concern. ‘I don’t want to see you go backwards again.’

‘I won’t. Not with you on my side.’

Robyn disconnected and shoved the phone back in her pocket, furious that she’d been sideswiped like that.

As she jogged back into the station car park, she tried hard to turn her attention back to the investigations and put the intruder and black BMW out of her mind.

---

Robyn was copying a report when David joined her by the photocopier. His brows were knitted together.

‘We got hold of Roger Jenkinson at last. He’s on his way to be interviewed. I came across something of interest on the general police database about him. He was an animal rights activist. He was charged back in 2004 for protesting against Newchurch guinea pig farm,’ he said.

‘I remember those protests. There was an outcry about testing on the animals. It was all over the news.’

‘He was also suspected of digging up the remains of one of the guinea pig farm’s ancestors. That charge didn’t stick. He’s known to police for various break-ins and property damage on farms, notably those associated with controversial methods of raising animals, overcrowded turkey sheds, that sort of thing. His wife filed for divorce in 2014, on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour. Claimed Jenkinson threatened her with physical violence and was abusive.’

‘A man with an aggressive nature who was also a member of a shooting club. That rings some alarm bells for me, David.’

‘Then this will ring them more.’ He tapped at a note in his book. ‘He was also accused of possession of a firearm in 2014. Used it to ward off an intruder, who reported him to the police. Police, due to insufficient evidence to support the intruder’s claim, dismissed the accusation. Jenkinson firmly denied the incident and no firearm was found on his property. I’ve requested further details. I’ll let you know as soon as I get a response.’

Robyn collected her copies and slid back behind her desk. Outside, the skies had darkened again and rain splattered against the windows, leaving silvery trails that slid down the panes of glass like thick slugs. She hated days like this. They sapped her energy. Anna, at the back of the office, pushed away from her desk and approached Robyn.

‘You might like to read this. It’s an unofficial statement from the landlord at the Goat pub in Abbots Bromley. He hosted the final quiz that year. I rang him when I was checking to confirm Tessa and Justin had met at the pub as he said. I left a message for the landlord to call me. He only got back to me this morning. He said he wouldn’t normally have remembered such a thing but was excited about a journalist covering his quiz. He saw them sitting in a corner together after the quiz, before leaving the pub together, and then he told me about Roger Jenkinson and Anthony Hawkins. They had an argument. Landlord had to break it up before it got out of hand. It’s all there.’ Robyn read the statement before shaking her head in dismay.

The desk phone trilled. David picked up the receiver. ‘Yep. Thanks. Jenkinson’s here. Interview room one, guv.’

Robyn signalled across the room. ‘Matt. Come on. Let’s see what he has to say for himself.’

---

Roger Jenkinson was a stocky, wide-shouldered, self-assured individual, with ruddy cheeks and a thick thatch of dark hair. His air was one of defiance, legs apart, arms folded.

Robyn began by asking where he’d been while they’d been trying to contact him.

‘In the Peak District. I like to lose myself up there some days. I don’t take my phone when I go. It’s a good place to take stock of your life. Got back about ten this morning.’

‘You camped out up there?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s an unusual time of the year to go camping. Wasn’t it very wet and cold?’

He gave a disparaging snort. ‘I’m hardy. Rain doesn’t bother me. Nor cold. I had my thermals. I dried out in the pub – the Farmhouse Inn. Had a pint and a bite to eat there.’

Robyn made a note to check out his whereabouts.

‘They might not remember me there,’ he said. ‘Place was busy.’

Robyn ignored the comment. ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions about Tessa Hall. You knew her from quiz nights, didn’t you?’

‘I did.’

‘And you are also aware she was murdered last week.’

He nodded.

‘I wanted to ask you about your relationship with Tessa Hall.’

‘I didn’t have a relationship with her.’

Robyn shook her head. ‘I’m afraid that isn’t true. It would be best to be honest with us, Mr Jenkinson. When was the last time you saw Tessa?’

‘I don’t want to discuss it.’

‘Are you refusing to assist us, sir?’ Robyn’s eyes narrowed as she spoke.

Roger remained silent. Robyn let him stew for a couple of minutes, noting the slight beads of sweat that formed on his upper lip, before speaking again.

‘Did you send Miss Hall a Valentine’s card? Before you answer, please be aware we have extracted fingerprints from it.’ She didn’t need to explain any further.

Roger Jenkinson spoke so quietly she could hardly hear his response. ‘Yes.’

‘You were having a relationship with Tessa Hall?’

He gave a brief nod. ‘I’ve been seeing her whenever possible since last December.’

‘It strikes me as odd that you didn’t come forward as soon as you heard she’d been murdered. Instead, you suddenly departed for the Peak District.’

‘Once I found out Tessa was dead, I needed to be alone. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I wanted some time to think and try to understand what had happened. I loved her. I couldn’t believe she’d been killed.’ Roger’s demeanour changed. He suddenly looked less self-assured.

‘As I understand it you’ve also got a steady girlfriend – Naomi Povey. If you loved Tessa Hall so much, why were you still with Naomi?’

‘I tried to finish with her but it’s been really difficult. Naomi’s like a bloody limpet. You try to get rid of her but she clings on. I tried dropping hints, being offhand with her, and even told her we should break up, but she keeps turning up at my house as if nothing’s wrong. I ought to have told her straight about Tessa but I was a bit worried about how she’d react. Thing is, I still have feelings for Naomi too. I didn’t want to hurt her. She was really nice to me when my wife left me. We had a fair bit in common – we were both on the same shooting team at one point – and for a while I even thought I loved her. But once I met Tessa, that changed.’

‘Does Naomi know about Tessa?’ Robyn asked even though Naomi had told her she’d not challenged Roger about the affair.

‘I planned on telling her last week, but Naomi made a huge fuss about Valentine’s Day and bought me presents, insisted we spent time together that day and, oh, God, it was just too hard to tell her. I should have. I know I should have, but Naomi’s so intense, and it wasn’t the right time. Tessa knew I was having difficulty getting rid of Naomi, and we were both concerned she’d turn psycho on us if we didn’t handle her properly. Tessa said to leave it for a little while longer, keep out of Naomi’s way, let her get the message, and then tell her.’

‘Naomi can be volatile?’

‘Bloody hell, can she? If she loses her temper, you know about it. She can be very fiery. I used to like that in her. I’m not so keen on it now.’

‘I understand you’ve also had your hot-blooded moments, sir. In 2014, you were accused of possessing a firearm and threatening an individual.’

He sighed dramatically. ‘I should have known you’d bring that up. We’re talking about that nutcase who was on my property. He was the one in the wrong, not me. He climbed over my fence and wandered across my field. When I told him to clear off, he said he was entitled to walk across it because it was common land. I didn’t feel like arguing the toss, so told him to piss off or I’d shoot him. I waved a stick at him. He was too far away to see what it really was. It scared him enough that he ran away, but he stumbled trying to get back over the fence, and hurt his ankle. Next I knew, the bastard had gone to the police and reported me for threatening him and causing him injury! Where’s the logic in that? I denied it. The police didn’t find any weapons in my house. I wasn’t charged. End of.’

His face had turned deep red with annoyance and Robyn allowed him a few seconds before she calmly asked, ‘Do you currently own any firearms?’

‘Course not.’ A thin spray of spittle flew across the table as he spoke. ‘Search my house. You’ll not find anything there. Now, can I go? It’s been a totally shit week.’

‘In a moment. When was the last time you saw Anthony Hawkins?’

‘Anthony? Why are you asking me about Anthony? He had a heart attack, didn’t he?’ He fixed his hard blue eyes on her.

‘How did you know he had died?’

‘I found out this morning. I rang a mate, Paul, to arrange to meet for a pint later. He’s a member of that posh golf club at Brocton. Said Anthony had snuffed it playing golf – heart attack.’

‘Could you describe your relationship with Mr Hawkins?’

‘We got on. He was a bit bossy at times. He used to be a prison warden and he liked telling us what to do. I don’t always like being told what to do.’

‘Did you fall out with him?’

‘Not really.’

‘You were overheard at the Goat in Abbots Bromley, in late December, threatening to kill him.’

Roger spluttered. ‘Hang on a sec. I was drunk. I didn’t mean anything. He was being his usual pompous self and I got angry with him. It wasn’t serious.’

‘So you are saying this was nothing more than a spat, but you can’t remember what it was about.’

‘It was the usual. Anthony told me I was out of order. I said something about it being a good job we weren’t going to be playing together any more. He went on about my shit attitude to life in general – all petty stuff in the cold light of day – less so after several pints. The landlord told us to clear off and we did. I went home, sobered up and forgot about it. This was all ages ago.’

‘Is that why the team broke up? Because you fell out?’

‘No. We’d decided to split up anyway. It was only a bloody quiz team! That night I was sick of him.’

‘So it was about your attitude to life?’

‘Something like that.’

‘It wasn’t about Tessa Hall?’

Roger Jenkinson went very quiet. The beads of sweat on his lip were more evident now.

‘I’ll ask you again. Was it about your attitude or was it because you’d found out Anthony had slept with Tessa?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t have to put up with this. It doesn’t matter what it was about. I was pissed. Got it? It didn’t mean anything. Anthony wasn’t murdered so this isn’t relevant.’

Robyn still had to learn where he’d been the morning Tessa Hall was murdered. ‘So, where were you on Thursday the sixteenth of February?’

He shuffled in his seat. ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. I didn’t kill Tessa. I met up with an old work colleague who lives north of Leeds. I arrived there about eight thirty. Spent the morning with Andy – that’s Andy Ford. We both used to work for Moo Dairies.’ He waited for Robyn to make a note and smirked when she finished. ‘He’ll vouch for me. And, of course, I spent the afternoon and night with Naomi.’

He sighed heavily. ‘And if you want to know where I was on Saturday morning when Anthony dropped dead, I was somewhere in the Peak District – probably on my way to Kinder Scout – a plateau in the Dark Peak. There was a group of exercise instructors – from the Nuffield gym in Sheffield – walking up there. I spoke to a couple of them. We decided the weather was too shit to go any further. Ask them. They’ll probably remember me. I don’t want you to think I scared the old bastard to death.’

There was a pause while Roger scratched at his face and stared into the distance. His eyes glittered when he next spoke.

‘You were right. The argument in the pub was about Tessa. That twat Anthony was bragging about how he’d slept with her. He’d seen me with her and was mouthing off. I told him to shut up.’ He flexed his knuckles as he spoke. ‘May I leave now? I’ve got stuff to be getting on with.’

As he stood up, Matt’s attention was drawn to the man’s scuffed walking boots.

‘What size shoe do you take, Mr Jenkinson?’

‘Ten.’

Robyn caught the look Matt threw her and spoke. ‘Sit down again for a minute. Do you know Henry Gregson?’

‘I won’t sit down. If I’m not being charged with something, and I presume I’m not, then I have work to do at home.’

‘Answer the question, Mr Jenkinson, or I’ll find some excuse to hold you here.’

‘No. Never heard of him.’ He stared at her, nostrils flaring.

‘Thank you, sir. Now, would you please allow Sergeant Higham to take a DNA swab and your fingerprints for elimination purposes, and then you’ll be allowed to go.’ She didn’t linger to listen to any protests. Matt would set him straight.

Robyn stomped back into the office. If Roger Jenkinson had been with Andy Ford on Thursday morning, it was unlikely he’d have murdered Tessa. It would take two hours to reach Leeds from Barton-under-Needwood – longer at that time of morning with the heavy traffic, and his friend lived further the other side of Leeds. That still left Naomi. Could the woman have been so jealous of Tessa, she’d killed her?

‘David, can you talk to Andy Ford, an ex-employee of Moo Dairies, to confirm Roger Jenkinson was with him on the sixteenth?’ She threw the notepad she’d used onto his desk.

‘Yes, guv,’ David replied.

Mitz was frowning at his screen. He called Robyn over. ‘Matt was dealing with Anthony Hawkins’ bank details and trying to track that huge amount of money deposited into it. He contacted Fidelity, the company behind the unit trust bond, and they’ve released the information he requested. Anthony Hawkins only triggered part of the fund. The initial deposit to set up the bond was one million pounds. He still has £900,000 left in it.’

Robyn drew a sharp breath. Anthony Hawkins and Tessa Hall both had a million pounds squirrelled away. How had they come by it? This changed everything. Could his death have been unnatural? Jenkinson’s words triggered a thought. Had somebody scared Anthony Hawkins to death? Was that actually possible?

She rang Harry McKenzie straight away.

‘Not got those DNA test results yet, Robyn. Another case arrived soon after you rang yesterday and that had to take precedence. I’ve put an assistant on it for you and we should get back to you very soon. I know how important it is for your investigation.’

‘Thanks, Harry. I won’t keep you. I wanted to know if it’s possible for a person to physically die of fright. I suspect it is. However, I’d rather hear it from a professional.’

Harry cleared his throat. ‘This is about Anthony Hawkins, isn’t it? In his case it is definitely possible. If a person is already at risk, and has narrowed arteries such as those we found in Anthony Hawkins, he or she might never experience any symptoms, but when faced with an incident that causes the adrenalin levels to rise rapidly, and destabilise the plaque that’s built up within the arteries, could well have a sudden heart attack.’

‘What sort of incident would cause such fear?’

‘You’re the detective, Robyn. What do you think? I’d say something fairly major – a car accident, brush with death, or someone holding him up at gunpoint, that sort of thing.’

‘Harry, thank you. You’re a gem.’

Her own heart was now racing. She called across to Anna and Mitz. ‘Anthony Hawkins was alone on an empty golf course when he died. According to Shearer’s report, the man hadn’t booked a round of golf. Now, Anthony Hawkins knew the club rules: that a tee off slot had to be booked with reception. A breach of the rules would result in him being asked to leave the club, so why didn’t he book one?’

‘So do you think he’d arranged a meeting there, guv?’ Anna asked. ‘The golf clubs and outfit were just for show?’

‘No. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t have changed his shoes for a round of golf. If he’d arranged a meeting, he’d have worn ordinary shoes and certainly not taken his clubs. I have a hunch he was lured to the course to be killed. I suspect his killer arranged the meeting on the golf course, and Hawkins turned up, expecting to play a round of golf.’

Anna nodded. ‘That makes sense.’

‘Now, consider this: how could the murderer be certain the golf course wouldn’t be in use? To be sure neither of them would be spotted by another group of golfers, teeing off at the same time, he’d surely have contacted the club reception. It’s the only way the killer could have known the course would be empty. Did somebody phone the club and ask if the course was free Saturday morning?’

Anna’s pen flew across her notepad. ‘I’ll look into that,’ she volunteered.

‘Thank you.’

‘What’s made you think Anthony Hawkins was murdered? He died of a heart attack,’ Mitz asked.

‘Something Harry said. He told me a serious shock – one brought on by fear of dying – could kill a person with atherosclerosis. He mentioned it could happen if somebody pointed a gun at such a person.’

Mitz nodded as he followed her argument.

‘I wondered if the same person who killed Henry Gregson persuaded Anthony Hawkins to come to the golf course in order to shoot him, but when Anthony Hawkins caught sight of the gun, he keeled over in fear, and saved the killer the job. Is that a leap too far?’

Matt caught the back end of the conversation as he entered the office. ‘That bloke Roger Jenkinson is definitely aggressive. I almost had to hold him down to get his fingerprints. What’s a leap too far?’

Robyn told him about the latest revelation and ran through her theory again for his benefit.

‘It’s certainly feasible. We still need to work out why.’

‘It could be to do with the same secret. Henry Gregson, Tessa Hall and even Anthony Hawkins were keeping something secret, and let’s not forget Tessa and Anthony had suddenly come into money. Keep digging, folks. There must be something else that connects these men and Tessa Hall. We’re getting closer. I’m sure we are. Once we get those DNA results back, we might have the answer to this confounding case.’