Page 100 of Return Ticket

Halberd’s tone made it clear there was no doubt about that.

The press exploded into a rowdy crow-fight, shouting questions over each other.

Neither James nor Halberd responded, and eventually they settled down and took turns.

When they left, some running for their cars to beat their competitors to the front page scoop, Halberd rocked back on his heels.

“This is what I like, Archer,” he said. “You kept this low key enough those hyenas never had so much as a sniff of the story while you were investigating, and then we could come out with a fully solved case when the villain was already behind bars. Very good look for the Met.” He clapped a hand on James’s shoulder.

Hartridge stood a little way away with Iris Johnson’s family, and as soon as the press left, he walked them over to the place where the builders had uncovered her remains, just the day before.

“You happy with your bagman?” Halberd asked, eyeing Hartridge and the weeping mother, sister and her husband who were all that was left of Iris’s family.

“Very, sir.” James glanced at him, sure he was hearing an offer for someone else in that tone. He shut it down immediately. “DC Hartridge’s help on this case was absolutely invaluable. As it was for that affair in the summer.”

“Good, good.” Halberd settled back down. “And Whetford?”

James froze. “DI Whetford, sir?” What was he being asked here?

“He seem alright to you?” Halberd didn’t look at him, his gaze settled into the middle distance.

“He seems a little animated by some old case of his that was reopened,” James said carefully. “Otherwise, he lets me get on with my job, which I like.”

“Yes, that’s a good strategy with a go-getter like you, Archer.” Halberd nodded sagely. “I heard about the Pollock case. Bad business that, and it’s good to hear there’s some movement.”

“The lab is definitely more advanced now than it was then,” James said, knowing full well the new evidence was nothing to do with scientific progress.

“Very true.” Halberd sounded thoughtful. “That’s a good line to feed the press, actually. I got a couple of press requests just this morning, although I’m not sure how the vultures heard about it. The Met leaks like a sieve.”

“I think the case being reopened is quite widely known,” James agreed.

“Can’t be helped.” Halberd clapped him on the shoulder again. “Job well done, Archer. Keep it up.” He walked away, and his driver got out of his car and went to open the rear door for him.

James stood quietly for a moment.

It sounded like Whetford was not in a good place. Not if Halberd was asking questions about him.

Hopefully that meant the games he and Galbraith were trying to play with Hartridge and himself would stop.

Hartridge was shepherding the Johnson family back to the car the Met had arranged for them, and he could see they were thanking him for his and the Met’s kindness.

Iris Johnson’s body had lain beneath the rubble and then the ground for nearly twenty years, and it was fitting that her body was found by the building site crew now, with the belongings Blythe had taken from her so recently in their custody.

They could lay her to rest.

Even though the last few days had been a blur of activity, he walked with a loose-limbed stride over to Hartridge, who was standing next to the Wolseley, watching the Johnsons drive away.

He only needed to think of Gabriella, warm beneath him, skin so smooth he couldn’t get enough of touching her, and his mood improved.

“Halberd seemed like he had a lot to say,” Hartridge said as James came to stand beside him.

“He made a few comments about Whetford,” James said.

Hartridge looked over at him sharply. “About?”

“Nothing specific. Like he was testing the waters. Like Whetford is on the out.” James wondered how much Halberd was compromised. He didn’t doubt that he was.

“And?” Hartridge asked.

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