Looking Good Dead

it for three thousand !’ she exclaimed.
    Tom turned away, his temper just a few threads from fraying completely. ‘You’re unbelievable, my darling. We’ve already got a perfectly decent kettle barbecue.’
    ‘It’s rusting.’
    ‘So, you could get a brand new one from Homebase for about seventy quid. You’ve spent three thousand ? And where the hell are we going to put it – the thing’ll take up half the garden.’
    ‘No, I don’t – it’s not – not that big when it’s assembled. It just looks so cool!’
    ‘You’ll have to send it back.’ Then he paused, looking around. ‘Where are the kids?’
    ‘I told them I needed to speak to you before you saw them. I warned them that Daddy might not be too pleased.’ She slipped her arms around him. ‘Look, there’s something I haven’t told you – I sort of wanted it to be a surprise.’ She gave him a kiss.
    Christ, he wondered, what now? Was she going to tell him she was pregnant?
    ‘I’ve got a job!’
    The words actually jolted a smile out of him.
    Half an hour later, after he had read Jessica several pages of Poppy Cat Loves Rainbows , then Max a chapter of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and had watered his tomatoes in the greenhouse, and the raspberry canes, strawberries and courgettes in the strip of soil beside it, he was seated with Kellie at the wooden table on their terrace, with a massive vodka martini in his hand, catching the last rays of the evening sun on their garden. They clinked glasses. Near his feet, Lady crunched contentedly on a bone.
    Len Wainwright’s head was visible, through the wisteria Kellie had trained along the top of the fence to give them added privacy, moving along, down towards his shed. Len had spent a lot of time, time that Tom could not afford, talking him through the various stages in the construction of this shed. But he had never actually explained its purpose. Kellie had once suggested that he was going to murder his wife and put her underneath. It had seemed funny at the time; Tom wasn’t smiling any more.
    The air smelled sweet and was still, other than the busy evening chatter of birds. It was a time of year he normally loved, a time of day when he normally unwound and began enjoying life. But not this evening. Nothing seemed to calm the undefined fear that just went round and round inside him.
    ‘I – I didn’t know you . . . I – I mean I thought you weren’t keen on, you know, being apart from the kids, working?’ he said.
    ‘Jessica’s now started at nursery school, so I have time,’ she replied, sipping her wine. ‘It’s a new hotel started up in Lewes – I’ve been offered a job on the front desk, flexi-hours, starting Monday week.’
    ‘Why hotel work? You’ve never done hotel work. Why don’t you go back to teaching if you want to work again?’
    ‘I feel like doing something different. They’ll train me. There’s nothing to it. It’s mostly dealing with stuff on the computer.’
    Giving you the opportunity to stay on eBay all day long , Tom thought, but said nothing. He took a gulp of his drink and started doing some mental calculations. If Kellie could earn enough just to cover her purchases that would be a considerable help. But three thousand pounds off her credit card today for the damned monster barbecue . . . It would take her months to earn that. Meantime he was going to have to fund it. Then his mobile phone, which he had left in his den, began to ring.
    They caught each other’s eyes. He saw the flash of fear in Kellie’s, and wondered if she saw it in his own, also.
    He hurried upstairs, and saw with relief on the caller display it was Chris Webb.
    ‘Hi, Chris,’ he said. ‘Have you found out anything from the disc?’
    The techie’s voice was sour. ‘No, and it doesn’t look like I’m going to.’
    ‘How come?’
    ‘I got home and my whole place has been ransacked. Someone’s been through everything, and I mean everything. It’ll take a week to sort this lot out.’
    ‘Christ. Have you had much taken?’
    ‘No,’ he said, ‘I haven’t.’ There was a long pause during which Tom heard the click of what sounded like a cigarette lighter and a sharp inhalation. ‘In fact there seems to be only one damned thing missing.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Your CD.’

23
    Alison Vosper, the Assistant Chief Constable, was the boss to whom Roy Grace ultimately had to answer. She possessed a mercurial temper, turning her from sweetness and light