Page 125 of Reinventing Cato
They went back into the living room with the drinks and Vigge’s face looked strained and raw, as if he’d been crying. But he still sat by his mum, still held her hand and Cato gave a quick hum of satisfaction.
Vigge’s dad stood and held out his hand. “We didn’t get properly introduced. I’m Malthe.”
Cato shook his hand. “Cato. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“My wife, Angela.”
She let go of Vigge’s hand to shake Cato’s.
“The days ahead will be difficult,” Vigge said. “The police will want to talk to you. There’ll be a lot of activity at Hendry’s house. Forensic guys there. Tents erected. Tape around the house and garden. The press will find out. TV people will probably come. When you put the phone back on the hook it will start ringing.”
“Will you and Allan stay here for a few days, Gitte?” her mother asked.
“Of course we will.”
Vigge pushed to his feet. “We need to get going now if we’re to catch the train.”
“You can’t stay?” his mother asked.
“I’m involved in a big murder case. I shouldn’t have taken time off today, but after Cato had jogged my memory about Newcastle United, I had to come and check what I thought I’d seen.”
“Will you come again?” she asked.
Vigge nodded.
His father stood. “When do you think they’ll let us have him back?”
“As soon as they’ve done a post-mortem.”
“Then we’ll arrange the cremation… the funeral.” Vigge’s father sucked in his cheeks.
“I’ll come up,” Vigge said. “Do you think…you might like some of his ashes put in a firework?”
Gitte gasped. “Anders adored fireworks. I think that would be lovely. Don’t you, Mum?”
“I do.” She was crying again.
“When… I’ll arrange it.” Vigge took a deep breath. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t keep saying you’re sorry,” his father said. “If you hadn’t spotted that scarf, we’d not have got him back. And now we know what happened. We know he was trying to save Fiona and that does bring comfort.”
Cato thought they should have stayed the night, but he said nothing as they left the house and went back to the car.
“I’ll drive,” Cato said.
“Okay.”
“Want to find a hotel? Or see if we can make the train?”
“I want to go home.”
~~~
By the time they stumbled into Vigge’s house, they were both exhausted, even though they’d slept on the train. Sometimes when Cato had woken, he thought Vigge was awake too, but just had his eyes closed. It was gone midnight and all Cato wanted to do was go to bed and wrap his arms around Vigge, try and make him feel better.
“You don’t have to work tomorrow, do you?” Cato asked. “That was a fib you told your mum, right?”
“Not tomorrow. But I do on Sunday.”
