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satisfied he had the right solution. ‘You’ll be interested to know that the substance found in that sarcophagus was human blood. We’re checking it against Holgate’s and if it proves to be a match that will be interesting.’

‘Indeed: it would strongly suggest that his attack was planned and he hid inside that thing, but how his blood got there is still a mystery unless we stay with the theory that he cut himself when he attacked the victim. Have you managed to contact the owner of that escape room yet? We need to ask him about that trick sarcophagus.’

‘No, but the search is ongoing.’ Granger clicked the mouse, closing one file and opening another. ‘Next item: I have some reports from the Met. First, from the detectives who searched the Tower Hamlets apartment rented by Holgate and Barnes.’ Granger was looking at her screen. ‘They found nothing that could be connected to the case. Nothing that might suggest a motive for Holgate to murder his partner. No diaries, letters, notes and nothing on the computer. They also spoke to people living in adjoining apartments, but none reported hearing any serious rows and nobody saw any evidence of violence.

‘Another team spoke to work colleagues of the couple. Holgate worked in a media production company in Hackney. Everyone he worked with had nothing but good words for him and some had met Barnes on social outings. These latter confirmed that the couple argued sometimes but it never got really serious. Barnes was part of a female theatre group based in Tower Hamlets. According to the person who ran the group, she was, I quote: “A very special person and a crucial member of the team who will be badly missed.” Apparently quite a number of the women there were in tears when the detectives spoke to them. So there’s nothing here either except . . .’ She scrolled down the page while Oldroyd and Steph waited with anticipation.

‘One of the women Barnes worked with reported seeing her in a café near the theatre group’s office with a man she didn’t recognise. They were easy and friendly with each other and the woman says he may have given her a packet of something, but she was too far away to be sure.’ Granger stopped reading from the report and turned to Oldroyd and Steph. ‘It’s very thin stuff, but I suppose she could have been having an affair and Holgate found out. Maybe they rowed about it, but kept the details from their friends.’

‘That would be understandable, sir,’ added Steph. ‘They’d want to try to resolve it without anybody else knowing what had happened, but maybe they failed. Barnes wouldn’t stop seeing this other man and eventually Holgate lost it with her.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Oldroyd, sounding reluctant and fidgeting in his chair. ‘It all fits together nicely. Too nicely for me. I’ve got so many warning bells in my head, the jangling’s driving me mad.’

‘What worries you in particular, sir?’ asked Granger.

Oldroyd raised his arms and dropped them in a gesture of dissatisfaction. ‘A lot of things. Judging from the despairing and remorseful texts his friends received, the murder appears to have been committed by Holgate in a fit of anger, or maybe jealousy now we’ve heard about this other man. He regretted the attack immediately afterwards. But then how come he had a knife with him and hid in the sarcophagus? That clearly suggests planning. Then what’s all this about meeting his friends at the church late at night and then ducking out at the last minute without a word? Very strange. Then we find out he had a gun, which was probably the one he got from his uncle, but why did he bring it with him to Whitby? Did that mean he felt threatened by someone? Or was it part of some plan? Finally, on the night he killed himself, presumably with this same gun, he created a rumpus first, outside a pub, by firing off the gun. Why? And then we can’t find the phone; wouldn’t it be in his pocket?’

‘Some of that behaviour would be consistent with someone who had become irrational. Maybe through guilt and despair?’ suggested Granger.

‘Maybe.’ Oldroyd sighed. ‘I’m always suspicious when we try to explain difficulties away by ascribing them to madness; it’s too easy. But anyway, I defer to you, Alice, as it’s your case. If you think you have sufficient evidence to wrap things up, then fine. But I have my doubts. What about you, Steph?’

‘I agree there are some odd things in the case, sir, but surely the evidence is unavoidable that Holgate stabbed Barnes whether he planned it or not. He did it in front of reliable witnesses and then left the building. Whether he hid in the sarcophagus first, I don’t know. Maybe he’d been mentally unbalanced for some time; his later behaviour certainly suggests that. We found the gun holster and ammunition, and if the gun is retrieved it is likely to be the gun he brought to Whitby and which he killed himself with. If he was paranoid about some non-existent threat, then that would be consistent with his failing mental health.’

‘Very good. So you also think the strange elements can be accounted for by the murderer’s mental state?’

‘I think it’s likely, sir. It’s hard to get away from the evidence we have regarding the murder and suicide. Sometimes people successfully conceal their failing mental health, don’t they?’

‘They do and I tend to agree with Steph, sir,’ said Granger, ‘but I’m happy to carry on with the investigation until you’re satisfied. What do you think we should do?’

‘I’d like to find out a lot more about the past lives of all the people involved and see if we can turn up something interesting. The past is so often the key to unlocking these mysteries.’

‘If there is a mystery, sir,’ added Steph with a smile.

‘Yes, well, I’m not infallible and I don’t mind being proved wrong . . . but I want to

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