"We're very sorry, Mrs Temple," I said a while later as we sat down in the living room of a flat on Flicker Street. A fluffy blue rug lay beneath my boots, and heavily-scented yellow flowers were arranged on the windowsill behind Janet Temple. Artificial light was streaming through the pane, casting a visual sense of cheer over the tangible gloom that had descended.

Janet had offered us tea, but she'd clearly not wanted to make it and so we'd both declined. Now I was thankful, because I didn't know where under earth we would have put our mugs down. The centrepiece on the coffee table was a sewing box, and around it lay swathes of fabric, lengths of ribbon, odd buttons, and paper patterns. It looked like several sewing projects were taking place at once, clamouring for Janet's attention.

Right now, her attention was on us. She was a housewife, and dressed luxuriously for it, in a designer dress with a heavy diamond around her neck. She'd twisted her fiery locks into a bun, leaving a large nose and red-rimmed eyes unobscured. The news had been broken to her before Alex and I had arrived, but the shock wave was a long way from dissipating.

Her lips trembled as she spoke. "You...you said you wanted to ask some questions?"

"Yes, just a few. When did you last see your husband?"

She clasped her hands over her kneecaps and swallowed. "Yesterday evening. He came in straight after work. Frankie, his niece, was already here. They talked about their day while I cooked dinner. We sat down and ate not long after that. It was just like every other Thursday evening."

"What did you do after you'd eaten?"

"We all sat in here for a while, talking." She bit her lip. "Then he went to meet some drinking pals at The Black Horse. That was at seven."

"Did he go to The Black Horse often?" Alex asked.

"No, no, just every once in a while. And I never went with him. I don't even know who he met there."

I leaned forward. "Did you have any idea that he was planning to go back to his lab at the university?"

"No. Sometimes he stays late at work, but he always comes home on time every Thursday to see Frankie. And he never goes back once he's come home. I don't know what he was thinking."

"Did you hear anything from him after he left the flat last night?"

"No."

"Did you try to contact him?"

"No." Her eyes filled. "I didn't even know he was missing until I woke up this morning. I went to bed very early last night. I had a terrible headache."

"What time was that?"

"Oh...something like eight o'clock."

Alex crossed one leg over the other and looked at her carefully. "Did Lonn ever bring his work home, Mrs Temple?"

She frowned. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"We're trying to locate a missing folder from his office."

The doorbell buzzed and cut across our questioning in a robotic monotone. "Janet, Frankie is at the door. May she come in?"

"Yes," Janet said softly. "Oh, Frankie..."

Half a minute later, a dark-haired teenager burst into the room. She flew straight to her aunt. "Janet? Is it true?"

Janet's face crumpled. "I was going to call you. How did you find out?"

"It's all over Xplora."

I sighed. I would bet my cat that the first person to write about it had been Clyde Edwards.

Janet turned back towards us. "This is Inspector Rames and Sergeant Sullivan. They were just asking me a few questions." Her voice thickened, and she paused to regain control. "This is Frankie Jarsdel, Lonn's niece. She's taking a biochemistry degree at Socrico University. It's her first year."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Frankie," I said. "Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions? Then we'll get out of your way."

She dropped onto the sofa beside her aunt and examined us from under fake eyelashes, her gaze hard. Eventually, she knotted her hands in her lap. "Okay."

"Did you eat dinner here with your aunt and uncle last night?"

"Yes." Her voice was clear and careful. "I always come for dinner on a Thursday. Then I go back to campus."

"How did your uncle seem to you?"

She shrugged. "Fine. Normal."

"Did he leave before you?"

"Yes. I followed about five minutes later and went back to my dorm to study."

"I don't suppose you happened to see where he went?"

"No. I didn't see him again after he left." She glanced at her aunt. "But he was...they said he was found in the research building."

"Yes," I said. "We're trying to work out if he'd been anywhere else before he went to his office -- and why he was there. Can you think of any reason why he would have gone back?"

"No. He never talked about work to me."

I looked between her and Janet. "Can either of you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?"

Both shook their heads without even exchanging a glance.

Disappointment settled on my shoulders, and the microphone fastened under my clothes felt heavy. "Okay, thank you. That's everything for now. If you think of anything else, you can contact us on Xplora."

"I'll show you out," Janet said.

We followed her out of the living room, leaving Frankie behind. The hallway was cluttered with bags stuffed full of children's clothes, and I nearly fell over one as we reached the front door.

"I'm sorry about the mess," Janet said. "Making clothes is a hobby of mine. I've been meaning to take this stuff down to the charity shops."

"You make them just to be donated?" I glanced at a red silk top sticking out of a bag. Janet was talented: it looked as good as anything you could buy in a high street store.

"Yes." She smiled faintly. "I used to work as a primary school teaching assistant before I met Lonn, but I gave it up when we married. He was bringing in enough money for the two of us, and I was expecting to be a full-time mother. It never happened...but I still managed to get into the hobby of making little clothes." Her smile turned tight. "So I give them to charity."

"That's very thoughtful." I followed Alex outside and turned to face her. "Remember to contact us if you think of anything."

"I will. Goodbye." She shut the door.

We strolled down the hallway towards the lift. Alex glanced at me. "It seems like we should be making enquiries at The Black Horse."

"Yeah. We'll go there next." We reached the lift, and I called it. "I feel sorry for Frankie. She lost her mother last summer, and now her uncle..."

Another look at Alex and I realised that he'd already thought about it. His gaze momentarily shuttered, and he glanced away.

I reached for him, but my earpiece buzzed. I ended up tapping that instead. "Fuck's sake... Rames speaking."

"Ma'am, this is Laney. The PRBs can't find the missing folder in Lab S...but Riannon Sotello told me it was definitely in the victim's office yesterday."

***

The Black Horse lay halfway between Janet's flat and Socrico University, on the ground floor of a small-business skyscraper. We walked there quietly, thinking about the missing folder that had undoubtedly been taken by the murderer.

Alex opened the pub's door for me, and I lead the way inside. It was a dark establishment fitted with brown leather booths and a sticky, thin carpet in the same shade. The tables spread out around us were almost empty, and the barman was drying glasses.

We approached him, and I held up my warrant card. "Inspector Rames and Sergeant Sullivan, Socrico Police. We're making enquiries into the murder of Lonn Temple."

The bartender paled and set down his glass. "Lonn's dead?"

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so." I tucked my warrant card back into my jeans pocket.

"How?"

"He was stabbed in the research building at Socrico University last night. We've been told he sometimes came to drink here."

"Sometimes? He used to come every bloody night until recently! One of my regulars, Lonn was."

"What happened?"

The bartender shrugged. "He started skipping some nights about a year back; only came in three times a week. I thought the missus was getting stricter with him. But in the past few months, he's hardly been here at all. It was strange. Lonn couldn't get through the day without a stiff drink."

I exchanged a puzzled look with Alex. That was hardly the impression Janet had given us.

"He told his wife he was coming here last night," Alex said. "He left their flat at seven. Were you working then?"

"I was. He didn't come in."

"What time did you finish?"

"Midnight."

Lonn had been dead by then.

"When did you last see him, then?" I asked.

The bartender paused to think. "He came in for a quickie on Monday night, early evening. Left just ten minutes later. That was unusual for him, but I can't tell you more than that. He wasn't much for conversation when he was drinking. All I really know about him is that he was a researcher at the grand university."

I glanced around the pub. "What about his drinking pals? Do you know the names of any?"

The bartender gave me an odd look. "You really don't know much about Lonn, do you?"

I took a deep breath and counted to five in my head. Ten was too high for my impatience. "No, sir. That's what we're here to find out."

"Lonn didn't have drinking pals. He'd come in and get pissed on his own. He'd stand at the bar right here." The bartender rapped the counter between us with his knuckles. "He'd get drunk as a skunk until I had to kick him out at closing time."

"Did he ever get into trouble?"

"You mean with the blokes around him?" The bartender looked thoughtful. "Nah, I don't think he ever did. Never set an eye on anyone else's missus or anything. Just stood here drinking and watching the footie." He turned around and pointed to the TV mounted on the wall behind him, which was displaying old clips of a football match in a dark stadium.

"And he was always on his own?" I said. "He never brought a woman with him?"

The bartender shrugged. "No, never. I knew he had a wife, but I always assumed they didn't get on. When a bloke spends that many nights a week in the pub, things clearly ain't right at home."

I nodded slowly, turning that over in my mind. "Thanks. If you think of anything else, you can contact us on Xplora."

We left the pub. The day was brighter now, and the streets were quieter. I stepped wide around a crisp packet fluttering in the road. "Now we have more questions than answers. Why did Lonn stop going to the pub every night? Did he have to stay late at work more? And why did he tell Janet he was going to the pub last night and then never show up? We need to look at his tabphone. Perhaps something happened after he left the flat to draw him to the lab instead..."

Suddenly realising that I was talking as much as Riannon Sotello, I drew a breath and looked at my sergeant. He was staring ahead.

"You're quiet," I said. "Are you okay?"

He flinched like I'd startled him. "Sorry. Headache."

"Want to make a detour to Ace's? We can get some painkillers."

"Okay." He smiled faintly. "You do remember that you still owe me a lot of them?"

I blushed. When I'd first broken my ankle, I'd always taken painkillers in the morning but forgotten to carry any with me for the afternoon. Alex had soon learned to bring boxes of them to work. I'd probably cost him a small fortune.

***

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed fifteen minutes later, tapping the touchglass cabinet inside Ace's. "I just told it --"

Beside me, Alex laughed. "I taught you how to do this on the day we met."

I went through the process again. Then I stared hopefully at the little box of painkillers floating in the middle of the glass container. They were labelled as number eight. So when I typed eight, why weren't they moving?

"Read the instructions," Alex suggested. "Type in the number by the box, then the number of the row."

"I am!" I dragged my hands through my hair. "Watch me. I am."

I tried for the third time. He grinned immediately. "No, you're doing it the wrong way around. Let me."

He nudged me out of the way and performed the procedure himself. An eye-scanner appeared in the glass and took the payment from him. The container spat out a packet of painkillers.

I sighed. "I didn't manage to pay you back."

"You can pay me back a different way. Cook for me tonight."

"I do that so much already, but..." I smiled. "Deal."

We left Ace's and walked in the direction of the police station. The day was warming up, and the little road was busier than usual as commuters on work breaks nipped out to buy a snack. An eager man bumped shoulders with me as he hurried towards Ace's entrance.

"Inspector Rames!" someone called.

I looked over my shoulder.

A woman was walking up the road towards us with her tabphone raised. "Inspector, does the murder at Socrico University mean you've started the Trials?"

I turned away and extended my stride. Alex kept up with me.

"Sergeant Sullivan, do you regret having a fling with your superior?"

I risked another glance over my shoulder. The woman was attracting attention -- she'd been joined by a young man who was also holding up his tabphone.

"Walk faster." Alex grabbed my hand.

I awkwardly half ran, half walked at his side. "I can't walk this fast."

"You're going to have to." He looked over his shoulder for himself. "She's drawing a crowd."

More voices joined the first. "How do you feel about attempting the Trials?"

"Can you confirm that the name of the deceased is Lonn Temple?"

"Are you confident that you'll be able to close this case?"

Alex tightened his grip on me. "This is going to get out of hand."

We passed the bottom of a metal staircase leading to the higher walkways. I spun around and pulled him up it. "Then let's throw them off."

Alex's response was to burst into a run, taking them two at a time.

I stumbled after him. "Hey, wait!"

He didn't. I upped my pace to a sprint as we reached the top of the steps. We dashed across a metal landing, past the back door of a shop where a woman with a shaved head was smoking a vape. She gawped at us, and then we were gone.

We neared the next set of stairs, and Alex veered towards them. "You said we had to throw the journalists off."

"You're just making fun of me! I can't run this fast."

We reached the top of the stairs, almost colliding with a huddle of young mothers and pushchairs. My ankle, still weak, throbbed in a gentle protest as Alex drew me in the rough direction of the police station. But when we ran between a teenage couple who'd been about to kiss, I couldn't help laughing.

"Now you're just being rude, Alex. You -- ah!" Sharper pain flared in my ankle. "I have to stop."

He slowed to a walk. When I drew alongside him, he was frowning. "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said between deep breaths. "It was just a warning pain."

We neared a gap between two skyscrapers that looked like an alleyway on a diet. A thin strip of metal ran down it, and Alex pulled me into the shadows. "Let's rest here for a minute."

"There isn't a mob charging after us now. I don't think we need to be quite so discreet."

He stopped and leaned against the wall, tugging me towards him. "I do."

I looked into eyes as dark as the shadows thrown across his skin, and a flicker of desire ran through me. It fought with the gentle throbbing in my ankle. I shifted my weight, trying to balance on the good one, but I misjudged it and fell into his chest.

His hands fastened around my biceps, steadying me. My heart tripped over its beats. I rose on my tiptoes --

And my glasses bumped against his face.

My feet smacked down on the steel, and I felt my cheeks burn. "Our video-recording contacts..."

Alex pushed my glasses onto my head and covered my eyes. His free hand dropped to the small of my back, holding me tight against him. Then his lips met mine, and my embarrassment faded. I eased one leg between his so that our thighs were touching, my heart skittering as if it was the very first time we'd touched. Alex moaned softly.

It was a quiet sound, but it made me think of the microphones taped to our skin. He pulled back and uncovered my eyes.

We stayed still and silent for a long moment. It was when I noticed how pale he was that I found my voice. "Let's go."

I took his hand, and we emerged from the alley. As we stepped out, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I glanced to the side.

Clyde was a ways down the other end of the landing, weaving around two grinders coming out of a tattoo parlour.

Alex followed my gaze, and his eyes darkened. "We'd better up the pace again."