Page 36 of Maybe Tomorrow

The door opened. Stephen Osborne walked in and used his hands to waft away the thick cloud of smoke.

‘Jesus Christ, Henry, do you have to smoke so much? Youknow me and Carole are struggling to have kids. I had a test last week and the doctor found evidence of nicotine in my piss.’

‘Then keep your nob out of my ashtray.’

‘Very funny,’ Stephen said. He went over to the windows and pushed them open. A blast of freezing November air came in.

‘Fuck’s sake, Stephen. Shut those windows.’

‘Not until some of this smoke has gone and I can at least see the far side of the room.’

‘You worry too much.’

‘And you don’t worry enough. Have you been here all night?’

‘A couple of hours.’

‘Why?’

‘I couldn’t sleep. Although if I knew you were going to turn this office into a sodding chest freezer, I’d have stayed in bed. Close those bastard windows,’ Henry exclaimed, standing up and moving across the room.

Stephen rolled his eyes and went back to the windows. As he leaned out to grab the handle, he saw the cars of the journalists pull up in front of the building. ‘Jesus, they’re starting early today.’

‘Who?’

‘The press are here again.’

‘Of course, they are. They’re never away.’

‘I went into the paper shop on the way in. I didn’t buy one. Alice’s funeral is on all the front pages.’

‘I can’t understand why we don’t have anyone for her murder yet. It’s a small community. Surely someone knows if one of their friends or family members is a killer.’

Stephen sat down at his desk and wiped away the ash Henry had left behind. ‘Maybe he doesn’t have any friends and family. Maybe he’s a loner.’

‘He’s got to have someone. We’ve all got someone in our lives.’

‘Who have you got?’

‘Two ex-wives and three kids who won’t talk to me. A mother who thinks I’ve wasted every opportunity I’ve had, and a sister in Shetland.’ Bishop thought for a moment. ‘Fuck me, when you put it like that, even I don’t have anyone who’d notice if I killed someone.’

The doors to the incident room opened and WPC Freya Sloan entered wearing her uniform. Her hair was neatly combed and pulled back into a severe ponytail. She looked fresh and clean, and she brought with her a hint of fragrance that took the edge off the smell of cigarettes, though only slightly.

‘You wanted to see me, sir,’ she said.

‘I did?’ Henry asked, looking her up and down.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Stephen?’ Henry looked to his DS. Stephen shrugged.

‘Sergeant Potts said you asked for me last night just as you were leaving, but I’d taken yesterday off as a rest day.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember now. Pull up a chair, love.’

Freya looked around her, found one chair that wasn’t covered in stains or cigarette burns and pulled it up to the desk Henry was sitting at.

‘Right then, you’ve spoken to Alice’s parents more than any of us have. Now, I won’t lie to you, love, but we’re clueless on this one, and we’re going back to the beginning. I want you to go back round to the parents and ask them about close friends and family members. They’ll have come for the funeral, yesterday, I’m sure of it. I want to know if any of them behaved differently…’