“That’s all right, love. Come in. Is that for me?”

“It is. Happy birthday. I didn’t know which one you normally drank.”

“Not this one.” Alice examined the label. “This is the expensive one. I’ll have a drop or two of that later.”

“I hope I haven’t put you out.” Taylor followed her inside. “I only found out about the press conference a few hours ago.”

“Plans change. I learned that a long time ago. Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely.” She sat down at the table in the kitchen and Alice busied herself with making tea.

“Morning,” the jackdaw shrieked. “Morning.”

“He hasn’t learned how to say afternoon yet. It’s a shame about the press conference, but I suppose all your hard work ought to be recognised.”

“It’s hardly recognition. I’m dreading it. That DCI from Exeter is an arrogant egomaniac.”

“Men. Too much testosterone. They never grow up, really.” She poured the tea into two china cups and handed one to Taylor. “So it’s all over? It’s back to normal again? Apart from Milly not being around, that is. Albarn is going to rot in hell for what he did.”

“It . . . yes, it is.” I’m here to celebrate her birthday, Taylor thought. And she seems so relieved. I can’t tell her my misgivings.

“So what about that lovely beef, then?” Alice changed the subject. “When can you make it?”

“Tomorrow? The minute this press conference is over, I’ve got two weeks off. I’m flying out on Wednesday for a ten-day trip up the Nile.”

“How lovely. And you’ve earned it. You deserve a holiday. Tomorrow sounds perfect. Come at lunch, since you’re not at work? And I’ll make us a nice pudding too.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Even though Taylor arrived at the station an hour before the press conference, the car park was already full and news crews were setting up outside the building. It was going to be a long night, with the biggest story to hit the local news in — well, possibly ever.

The two PCs White and DS Duncan were standing by the entrance as she went in. Eric White spotted her, tapped his namesake on the shoulder and they both started to clap. DS Duncan joined in. She could feel her face turning red.

“Stop it,” she told them. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re famous,” Thomas White said. “You’re going to be in all the papers.”

“I’m dreading it. DCI James is going to make a whole song and dance about it — I’m sure of it.”

“James is an arsehole, but you have to admit, he gets results,” Duncan said.

“I can’t wait for it to be over. I’m off up the Nile on Wednesday.”

“Lucky bugger,” Eric said.

“Is Killian here?”

“He was headed up to the canteen last time I saw him.”

“Well, I need a cup of tea.” She didn’t, but she wanted to see him.

She found Killian sitting by himself in the canteen. “All set?” he asked her.

“No. Journalists make me panic.”

“I’ll let you in on a trick I learned a long time ago,” Killian said. “When you’re in front of a large group of people, don’t picture them as people.”

“Don’t tell me. Imagine them naked?”

“That’s ridiculous. No, when you see all the faces before you, imagine they all have faces like pigs.”

“Pigs?”

“With their tiny eyes and hairy snouts. It works for me.”

“I’ll give it a go.” The idea amused her. “I’ve got a feeling the DCI is going to do most of the talking anyway. James really loves the sound of his own voice. Anyway, I’ve booked a ten-day cruise up the Nile. I’m leaving on Wednesday.”

“Just what the doctor ordered. Send me a postcard.”

“At least tomorrow we’ll be free of the Exeter crew. I can’t wait for things to get back to normal again.”

“Things are never normal. You have to accept that there will always be something new happening. Don’t get old before your time.”

She checked her watch. “Here goes. Wish me luck.”

“I wish I could be there, but James made it totally clear I’m not welcome.”

“You’re lucky. And I’m still not so sure this is all over.”

She left Killian looking slightly perplexed. It was still early when she got to the conference room but James and the other Exeter detectives were already behind the desk and the press officer was starting to look slightly frantic. She slid in at the end, beside DS Southern.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” James hissed. He looked extremely polished. Taylor was pretty sure he was wearing foundation.

“It’s not six yet.”

The room started to fill up. It looked as if there were journalists from every newspaper and news channel. The press officer switched on the microphones and nodded to the speakers.

“Good evening.” Superintendent Lemon cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming. I’ll keep this brief. The man of the moment, DCI Warren James, will provide you with all the information you need in due course. I’m sure you’re all aware of the protocol. Any questions you have will be answered at the end. Over to you, Warren.”

“Thank you.” Warren James leaned forward to his microphone.

Taylor could feel the eyes — not to speak of the cameras of scores — panning the desk. Pigs, she thought, they’re all pigs with beady eyes and long snouts. She looked at a man in the front row and did her best to picture him snuffling in the trough. It helped a bit.

“Good evening, everybody,” James began, “I’m sure you’re all aware of the tragic events of recent days. The small peaceful village of Polgarrow is still mourning the loss of three of its elderly residents.”

He paused for effect. It was obviously a rehearsed tactic. The journalists leaned forward, eager to hear what he was going to say next.

“Three elderly people have died,” he continued, “all in the space of a week and all under suspicious circumstances. The Trotterdown police department pleaded for our help.”

Pleaded? Taylor gritted her teeth as he took them slowly through the whole story, trying not to wince or look dubious as he explained exactly why Albarn was the murderer. Finally, he finished and smiled at the crowd. “We’ve cleared up this investigation, and I trust the community can sleep easy again.” He looked around the room.

What’s he waiting for? Taylor thought. A round of applause?

“I’m sure you all have questions,” James went on, “but first I would like to introduce you to the team who made this all possible. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be here in front of you today.” He gestured to Taylor and the detectives from Exeter. Taylor wanted the ground to swallow her up. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt more uncomfortable.

“DI Carrick,” James said, “DS Southern, DC Brown and Trotterdown’s own DC Taylor. It was a pleasure working with you.”

Taylor prayed the journalists were not going to give them a round of applause.

“Any questions?” James asked before they had a chance.

“DCI James,” the man Taylor had pictured as a pig said. “George Harrow, West Country Herald. How’s the relationship between Exeter and Trotterdown, now that you’ve had to come to their rescue?”

James paused for a moment and then picked up smoothly. “I wouldn’t say ‘rescue.’ We enjoyed their support throughout this investigation. My team are — how can I put it — way ahead in the experience stakes when it comes to this type of crime, that’s all.”

“Could I ask DC Taylor if she feels the same way?” He looked at Taylor.

“Of course,” James said. She tried to look calm.

“DC Taylor, what was it like to abandon your colleagues and jump to another side? How do your workmates feel about you being the only one from Trotterdown chosen to work on the investigation?”

“As far as I’m aware,” Taylor said as steadily as she could, “this was not an individual crusade. We’ve all been working together to bring the investigation to a conclusion. As far as I’m concerned, this was a team effort. It’s never been about individual glory.”