“We’ve been led to believe that the information regarding the witness’ whereabouts reached Fallon only yesterday morning,” he shrugged, “so he did the job himself. You know he isn’t averse to getting his hands dirty if he thinks he can get away with it—which he usually does.”

That was why Fallon had come to the funeral. He’d used it and Calladine as a cover. He had no choice but to give Jones the bad news.

“In that case, he’s telling the truth—and I’m not covering for him. We don’t have much choice but to accept what he’s saying.

Ray Fallon was attending my mother’s funeral at Leesworth Parish Church at that time. So not only me, but about thirty others can vouch for his presence.”

“This doesn’t sit well, Tom.” Jones’s face was like thunder.

How the hell did he imagine it sat with him!

“There’s nothing much I can do about it, sir. He was there, along with a number of his goons. Even he can’t be in two places at once.”

“Central will want a word. In fact they’ll want a statement. I don’t like this, Tom. I don’t like having one of my officers being involved with a gangster like Fallon.”

“Let’s get one thing clear, sir: I am most definitely not involved with him. The man’s my cousin, so occasionally, when there’s family stuff, like yesterday, I have to see him. But that’s as far as it goes.

I do not mix socially with him. I do not speak to him on the phone.

In short—I have precious little to do with the man. Is that all, sir?”

“For now. But be warned: don’t speak to Fallon at all—about anything. Do you understand?”

He certainly did. This was yet another nail in the coffin of his career.

“Can I ask, sir, how did they arrive at the exact time of death?”

“Post-mortem. He was dumped, and found almost straight away, so we got a reasonably accurate time of death.”

“Why was that? Why was he found so soon?”

“Because about an hour after he was shot, the body was thrown from a bridge over the M62. The emergency services were at the scene within minutes. So there’s no question.”

“So what time does that put the shooting at?”

“The pathologist reckons about eleven.”

“Even so I can’t fault his alibi.”

“Just bear in mind what I’ve said and keep away, Tom. Don’t let me down.”

So that was that. Fallon had well and truly stitched him up. He must have been laughing all through the service yesterday.

* * *

Ruth drove them to the hospital.

“You look tired, sir, case getting to you?”

“No, it’s not the case. I’ve just had a run in with Jones about my bloody cousin. The bastard’s dragged me into a damn murder case now. Can you believe he’s actually had the gall to use me as his alibi?”

“And is he telling the truth? Can you vouch for him?”

“I’m afraid I can.” He squirmed in the passenger seat. “I have no choice. He’s supposed to have killed someone at the time he was at my mum’s funeral—so there we have it. His alibi stands up,”

“Not good, Tom. Well, not for your promotion prospects anyway.”

“Too damn true it isn’t. I do nothing wrong, but still my career suffers from setback after setback. This shouldn’t make it any worse but it sure as hell won’t do it any good either. Anyway, what’s your excuse? You’re looking almost as bad as me.” There were dark circles under Ruth’s eyes.

“At least I wasn’t late this morning.”

“Even so, you’re hardly at your best, are you? So come on—tell me what’s really going on.”

“I was out with Jake last night. We got talking, well arguing mostly. We seem to want different things. Well, to be honest, I don’t really know what I want.” She let out a long sigh. “Sometimes I wish I was like other women. Everyone I know who’s my age is married with kids. Why don’t I want that, sir?”

“It’s the job. It gets to you, takes over your entire life, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. But you know that. So you’ve got a decision to make. You like him, and that causes problems—inside here.” He tapped his head.

“So says the expert. And you? Any luck with Monika?”

“I’ve not tried. I can’t see why she’d want anything to do with me after…Well, after Lydia.”

Ruth laughed and shook her head. “The image of you standing there, shame-faced, waiting for a lift that morning, after you’d spent the night with the blonde bimbo, was priceless. But even so, I still think you should try. Lydia’s out of the way now, and you and Monika were good together.”

“I don’t think good together is quite enough, Ruth.”

“But isn’t it worth another go? I’m sure Monika would be up for that. She misses you. I know her, remember, and I can tell. If you like, I can put in a word for you.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do my own grovelling, thank you very much.”

“Well make sure you grovel nicely. You saw her at the funeral.

Didn’t you notice how she’s lost weight, grown her hair and styled it differently?”

Truthfully, he hadn’t—idiot! So she’d been hoping to impress him and he hadn’t even spotted the difference. What did that say about where his head was?

“Well, at least you’ve got your Zoe for company now, haven’t you?”

“Yep, and it’s good having her around.” He smiled. “Do you think she’s happy here? Has she said anything to you?”

Ruth shrugged. “We haven’t really had time to get to know each other that well. But she always seems okay. She’s got herself a good job. It’s a start.”

But was it enough? Calladine wanted his daughter to be happy.

He wanted her to stay in his life. He was acutely aware that the job got in the way of that relationship too. He was always busy, always going somewhere. But if Zoe suddenly decided to up sticks and return to Bristol, he’d be devastated.

Zoe, Monika…he really had to sort out what to do about the women in his life. If he just let things slide—as he usually did—then he could end up completely alone again, and he didn’t want that, not anymore.

* * *

They pulled into the hospital car park.

“If you like, I’ll go and talk to Stone and you can see if Doc Hoyle has the PM report for us yet.”

Alexander Stone was sitting up in bed reading a newspaper. He looked a great deal better than yesterday; his face wasn’t so red and inflamed.

“DI Calladine, Leesworth Police. We met briefly when you were brought in. I don’t know how much you know about what happened yesterday, but a woman’s body was found in the back of your car.”

He saw the look of horror cross the man’s face. “We know now it wasn’t you who put her there, so don’t worry; I’m not about to arrest you or anything. I simply want to know what you recall, what you saw. Do you remember seeing anyone else?”

“Not really, it’s all a bit of a haze. It seemed like a bloody nightmare at the time. I was frantic with pain, and then when he turned up and poured petrol everywhere, I just kept shouting for him to stop, and when he flicked that match I went completely to pieces. To be honest I didn’t know what he was doing. I didn’t even see the woman.”

“You were very lucky. Things could have been much worse. A combination of heavy rain and the fire crew saved your bacon. Did you get a look at him, the bloke who did this?”

“No. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even turn my head, but I saw his van. It was small and white. Being white it showed up, even through the fog.”

Very useful. How many small white vans, he wondered, were registered in Leesworth—if that’s where their man came from?

“What time was this, Mr Stone?”

“I’d been travelling since six, so it must have been about seven thirty; certainly no later.”

Calladine’s mobile rang. It was Ruth. He nodded an apology to Stone and walked a few feet away to answer it.

“Sir, I’m with the doc. He wants to talk to you as well, so I’ll wait for you here.”

What now? The PM must have thrown up something controversial. Calladine told Stone that a detective would be along to take his statement later, and left him in peace.