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Lucas from the other side of the kitchen, raising his voice to make himself heard above the clatter of a rickety fan.

‘For now. But I think I heard the door, so there might be more.’

The weather had changed at last. The heavy, unseasonal rain of the past couple of weeks had given way to steaming sunshine. In the kitchen, the humidity made things even more uncomfortable than usual, and Lucas reached for a handful of paper towel to wipe his face. ‘Phew. We need a better fan.’

‘Air-con would be good,’ Mick said. ‘We could control the temperature whatever the weather.’ He ran a cloth over the stainless-steel surface beside the hob. ‘I think we might splash out. What do you…?’

Adel, the head waitress, pushed open the door that led from the restaurant. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Mick. I’ve got Maurice on the phone. He wants to talk to you.’

Mick gave a little sigh. ‘Tell him I’ll call back after lunch service is over?’

Adel nodded and disappeared.

‘What were we talking about? Oh yes, air conditioning. I suppose you could get some quotes. It’s not going to help productivity, but…’

Adel was back. ‘Sorry Mick, he says it’s urgent.’

Lucas threw Mick a grin. ‘I can manage here.’ He looked across at Adel. ‘Have we got more customers?’

‘Yes. Only two. They’ve got their drinks and are looking at the menu.’

‘Go on Dad. If you’re quick they won’t even have ordered.’

Mick gave a sigh. ‘I doubt I’ll be quick. You know what Maurice is like.’

‘Whatever. I’ll be fine. Adel can help if necessary.’

Lucas continued with his sterilising while he waited for the couple’s order. When Adel delivered the slip: one asparagus risotto and one salmon en croute, he gathered the prepared salmon parcel and the half-cooked risotto and set them going while he brought a pan to the boil for vegetables. It was when he called for service that he realised how long Mick had been. He followed the food into the restaurant to check on his father, but the phone sat, undisturbed in its cradle.

‘Adel?’ He beckoned the girl over and murmured, ‘Where did Dad go?’

‘He didn’t say.’ The girl whispered back. ‘He just left.’

60 SAM

Sam had arranged to see Anwen and Cerys that evening because he needed time to plan his words. The more they knew, the harder it would be to keep things from Kitty, and he did not want his girl upset.

Anwen showed him into a living room that would have done justice to a show house. The last time Sam was here was the evening of Paul and Cerys’s engagement party, when it had been anything but tidy. Glasses all over the furniture and crumbs on the floor, but now, the wooden surfaces glowed in the lamplight, cushions rose in inviting mounds, and magazines and books stood in a neat pile on a coffee table in the bay window. Sam dusted off the seat of his jeans before sinking into an armchair to face the two sisters sitting side by side on the sofa. He declined Anwen’s offer of refreshment, ‘No thanks. I have a piece of work to finish at home, so I won’t take too much of your time.’ He leaned his forearms on his thighs and said, ‘What a mess this all is, isn’t it?’

Cerys ignored his sympathy and in a brisk tone, got to the point. ‘I understand from Anwen that you and Kitty have been investigating Kitty’s mam’s death - and your own mam’s too?’

‘That’s true. Max Rutherford came out of prison, recently, and he still insists he is innocent. He’s persuaded Kitty to re-investigate.’ Sam raised the corners of his lips in a brief smile. ‘You know Kitty - always up for a challenge. She wanted to prove for sure that Max was guilty.’

‘But she uncovered something that incriminated Paul?’

‘No, she didn’t. She wasn’t able to complete her investigations, I’m afraid.’

‘And you don’t understand why Paul’s been arrested?’ Cerys searched Sam’s face, and he looked as guileless as possible. ‘No idea, sorry, but I expect it’s a huge mistake.’

‘So, what have you discovered? You must have found something.’

Sam told them as much as he considered sensible. He even included the pond weed to give them something to puzzle over. When he rose to leave, Anwen accompanied him and handed over the bundle of Kitty’s post. There were flyers, one advertising double glazing and the other from an Indian Restaurant offering free deliveries over twenty pounds. But here was the item for which Sam had been waiting - a fat, A4 sized manila envelope. He thanked Anwen and hurried out.

At home he scrutinised the second court transcript, turning page after page until his growling stomach persuaded him to stop.

Tearing the corner off a cheese doorstep with his teeth, he considered what he had read. The evidence against Max was convincing. With information gleaned from Paul during their sessions, the so-called counsellor had assumed a different persona for each of the two women he seduced. In Fee’s case, he had become Will, an offshore engineer on the oil rigs, working a shift pattern, away for two weeks at a time. A clever ruse that no doubt made his subterfuge easier and would appeal to career-minded Fee.

Sam’s own mother, Twitch, was artistic and on the morose side. When entrapping her, Max said he was a social worker called Luke. He was able to make this very convincing since he had once been a Social Worker. He could also wield a paintbrush and contrived to bump into Twitch at a local art class.

Sam put down the remains of his sandwich. Max’s plot was very elaborate. The money motive that led him to marry Fee was easy to understand, but it was less obvious why he had targeted Twitch. How would he benefit financially from Twitch’s death? Sam thought

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