“There’s our girl.” James’ voice echoed. He had obviously forgotten about the scene he had caused in the hotel the night before.

“Sit down,” he told her. “We’re going through our strategy for today. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’ve done this plenty of times before.”

“Strategy?” Taylor sat next to DC Brown. “I thought the case was closed.”

“You’ll soon learn — case closed is often just the beginning. Now comes the gauntlet that is the fourth estate.”

“The press,” Carrick clarified.

“I know what the fourth estate means,” said Taylor.

“Nowadays,” James continued, “solving the crime is just one aspect of our jobs.” Clearly, one of his lengthy soliloquies was on the cards. “The crimes have been solved and now we have to make sure we’re seen in a favourable light. Our PR is as important as the rest of our performance.”

This idiot really does love the sound of his own voice, Taylor thought.

“We all need to be on-message.” James was far from finished. “We need to be singing from the same song-sheet. We’ll be running through our key points and making sure we’re all coordinated. Sorry about last night, Taylor, by the way. I tend to get a bit over- enthusiastic when an investigation is wound up.”

Is that the apology Southern was talking about? He might as well not have bothered.

“As I said,” James went on “we have the whole day to prepare ourselves. The press office has a few ends to tie up — press materials and whatnot. So we’ve called the press conference for six this evening.”

“I can’t make it,” Taylor said, “I’ve got plans.” She was due to celebrate Alice Green’s birthday with her.

“Cancel them.”

“I can’t. I promised.”

“You will be at that press conference.” James said. “You were part of the team. Your presence is required. You were the representative of Trotterdown in all of this. Your colleagues are relying on you.”

Taylor was stuck. She didn’t want to let Alice down but her whole career could go up in smoke if she didn’t do what he said.

“I’ll be there.” She’d have to find a way to let Alice down gently.

* * *

The next three hours were possibly the most painful of Taylor’s life. By the end, she was exhausted and still none the wiser about the right and wrong way to address the press. After the first hour of James’ lecture, she almost dozed off. Only the subtle nudge under the table from DS Southern had kept her awake. When the ordeal was over, everyone was given the rest of the day off to ‘get themselves ready’ (Warren was clearly heading for a haircut before facing the cameras). Taylor headed straight for Killian’s office.

He was staring out of the window when she knocked and entered.

“Back to normal again,” she said. “It’s good to see you back in here.”

“It’s good to be back. I suppose you’re here about your leave. I haven’t forgotten.”

“I was thinking about two weeks starting tomorrow.”

“No problem. Planning on getting away?”

“Definitely. A nice break somewhere warm and far away.”

“I envy you. I can’t remember when I last had a proper holiday. That’s all a bit in the past for Megan and me.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Better. She may be allowed home in the next few days. It’s not right at home without her. I’ll send the leave forms through to admin. I believe James has organised the press conference for six this evening?”

“Yes. I’m dreading it. I’ve got a feeling he’s going to parade us in front of the press like prize cattle.”

“Smile and wave. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“If you say so. I’ll see you there.”

“I’m not invited. It’ll be fine and then you can enjoy a well-earned break. We’ll miss you around here.”

Taylor left past PC Eric White in reception without saying a word. There were still hours before the press conference. She got in her car and drove straight home, where she turned on her computer. Dennis Albarn’s autopsy report was the only new email. She opened it and read it carefully.

Albarn had suffered extensive burns to most of his body. His internal organs had been boiled by the intense heat. Taylor shuddered. She read the whole report and scrolled back up to the top. There has to be something here, she told herself. She read it again. Albarn’s heart had stopped beating before he was engulfed in flames. She didn’t understand some of the terminology. She took out her phone and dialled Dr Finch’s number.

“Finch,” he answered. He sounded tired.

“Jon,” Taylor said, “can you talk?”

“Have been able to since I was eighteen months old. That’s twice in two days you’ve phoned me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m reading the autopsy report now. Can you translate something for me?”

“Hold on. Let me get to my computer.”

She heard rustling on the other end of the line.

“Are you still there?” she asked.

“Just clearing my desk a bit. Fire away.”

“There’s something here that doesn’t make sense.”

“Which part?”

“Inhalation analgesia negative. What does that mean?”

“When the central nervous system is shut down by some external cause, it loses the ability to function. The receptors that normally allow us to feel pain are basically turned off. It’s called analgesia — pain relief. But Albarn’s central nervous system didn’t do this.”

“Once again in English, please.”

“OK, try this. Dennis Albarn’s heart didn’t stop beating as a result of the fire or the gas in the house.”

“How did he die, then?”

“I’m afraid the body was in such a state there wasn’t much left for us to go on. The only thing I can say for certain is that he wasn’t killed by the explosion or by gas inhalation.”

“And the team from Exeter are aware of this?”

“Of course. They had access to all the reports.”

“Thank you. I owe you a drink.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Call me any time.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

What the hell was going on? Taylor left her computer and went outside for some fresh air. In a few hours’ time DCI James was going to stand in front of a hoard of journalists to bask in the glory of a successful investigation. There was no way she could tackle him before the press conference — her life wouldn’t be worth living. On the other hand she wasn’t sure she could sit through a press conference full of self-important pronouncements when she knew for a fact they were nothing more than speculation.

She needed something to take her mind off everything. For some reason she remembered the annoying law lecturer with his “Dr Livingstone, I presume” attempt at a joke, and she grinned. She went back to her desk, took a deep breath and emailed her bank details to the company who owed her Danny’s commission. Then she booked and paid for ten days on a small boat going up the Nile.

This time on Wednesday I’ll be far away from everything, I may not find the source of the Nile — and it looks as if I won’t find the solution here either — but at least I’ll be doing something completely new.

Buoyed up by her decisiveness, she decided to go into town, buy Alice Green a birthday present and drop it off. She could spend a few hours with her and then go on to the press conference.

* * *

It was easy enough to find a bottle of fine port — she couldn’t go wrong with that — and she even found what she hoped was a suitable card to take over to Alice’s house in Polgarrow.

She exchanged a few words with Eddie Sedgwick, who was pruning his roses in his front garden, and knocked on the door. Alice opened it, looking rather confused.

“Hello, dear, but you’re rather early. I haven’t even put the roast in the oven yet.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it. I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that I have to attend a press conference at six. I’m sorry, I couldn’t get out of it.”