‘Has my wife been talking to you?’

‘As if. Now, since the demon DCI has left us . . .’

‘I’m not listening to that, Simon, she’s an excellent appointment, I’ve a lot of respect for what I know of her work.’ He stood, finally, wincing.

‘Painful?’

‘Yes. Can you get the ibuprofen from my coat pocket?’

Simon did, with a glass of fresh water, then he said, ‘Wheels in motion?’

Kieron nodded.

‘You should make DCI Blades attend. She’s clearly an old hand at exhumations.’

Twenty-Five

‘There’s a hairline crack, here and here – but otherwise it’s a soft-tissue injury.’

The radiologist sat back to let Cat have a closer view of the X-ay.

‘Is that bad? How bad?’ Kieron asked. ‘Those pictures look like a map of the moon to me.’

‘Hairline cracks aren’t a problem, they’ll heal themselves, though nothing ever happens quickly once we get older.’

‘I’m forty-eight!’

‘You need to be eighteen to see anything really fast. But it isn’t those that are causing your pain, it’s the ligaments.’ He switched off the viewer.

‘Your wife here will explain, if she hasn’t already . . . torn ligaments and tendons are what cost footballers their careers.’

‘Good job I’m only a plod then.’

‘If you were still plodding, you’d be looking at a desk job for a while. As it is, ice packs, strapping, pain relief, then some physio. Are you happy, Dr Deerbon?’

Cat was about to say something when her phone buzzed. ‘Sam,’ she mouthed. ‘I’d better take this. Sammy? Hold on a second, I’m in radiography. Don’t switch off.’

She gave the radiologist a thumbs up, and went ahead of Kieron towards the waiting area. By the time she reached it, the phone had gone dead.

‘Damn. I’m getting a wheelchair for you, darling, you’re struggling, you can’t walk to the car park again. Sit down here. Do you want a coffee?’

Kieron glanced at the vending machine. ‘I think just water. Am I due any painkillers?’

‘Another half-hour. You’ll just –’

‘Thank you, do not tell me I’ll just have to be brave, lump it, endure, whatever. Why don’t you give me your phone while you hunt down my transport? If Sam rings again I’ll answer it and keep him on the line till you get back.’

A spare wheelchair took twenty minutes and a tour of Bevham General’s east wing to locate but when Cat returned, Sam had not called again.

‘What is the boy playing at?’ Kieron said, sitting back in the chair with relief. ‘He’s worrying you with all this messing about, and I’ve half a mind to tell him so.’

‘Maybe wait for the reason first?’