“Then, she asked how I was doing, and told me the last time she’d seen me I had been ten or eleven, and doesn’t time fly? Personally, I think she’s thinking of my little brother, but it didn’t feel like the right time to correct her.” Jakub leaned an elbow on the table and supported his head on a hand. “Then, she asked if I had a girlfriend, and I said no, and she said she was surprised. Handsome young man like me? The girls round here must be blind.”

With his free hand, Jakob gestured at Hamza’s pad. “You’re not writing any of this down. You said you wanted everything. I’m giving you everything.”

That point or two that Jakub had earned from the hand squeeze were mentally subtracted again before Hamza replied.

“Fine. Tell me everything relating to what happened today at the house,” he said.

“Right. Yes. I thought you’d see sense,” Jakub replied. He flicked his gaze to the notepad again. “Ready this time?”

“Just get on with it.”

“Right,” Jakub said, lifting his head from his hand and sitting up straight. “Then I shall begin.”

Chapter Twelve

The team reconvened around a couple of desks and a few square sausage rolls in the Incident Room. Entering the building was a joyously swift and painless process with no Moira Corson to contend with, and for once the rolls were still piping hot when they started tucking in.

There was no shop talk during the three or four minutes it took them to devour the food. Instead, they reminisced on the wedding at the weekend, complimented the bride and groom on a fine day out, and ripped pure pish out of the speeches.

They discussed Honeymoon plans. The newlyweds had decided to put it on hold until the school summer holidays and take Harris away, they said, though they didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Logan mostly just watched and listened while the others did the talking. He watched Sinead and Tyler, in particular. Sinead had touched Tyler’s hand at several points during the conversation. Not romantically, Logan thought, more supportive.

The lad had nearly bottled it on Saturday. Done a runner. That hadn’t made sense to Logan. Aye, Tyler was an idiot, but no’ that much of an idiot. He was loved-up—ridiculously so. He’d been desperate to get married, probably worried that Sinead would come to her senses.

He’d seemed out of sorts a bit on the stag night, too. It had turned into quite a subdued affair, and it was only the injection of some karaoke—and, in particular, Logan’s roof-raising rendition of Elvis Presley’s The Wonder of You—that had finally got the party started.