On the other hand, for me, the more I thought about my hastily delivered promises to Norman, the more I realized that heading back to the scene of my conjugal crime with the key piece of evidence in tow had the potential to serve up the kind of consequences of which I’d never seen the like.

15

WHILE I MIGHT have been able to kid myself with a little early-morning list-making, I’d really had next to no idea where to start on the plan. But once a certain ex-services octogenarian got involved it was more a case of where things were going to stop, because it turned out Leonard was a bit of a whiz with more than just a mop and a teapot.

He was waiting out in front of the house for me when I got home from work just after three thirty that same afternoon, as promised.

“Hello again! Twice in one day, how lovely. I’ve just parked there, if that’s okay. Are you ready to get started?”

It was a very good question. And even though dredging up memories of my father’s death and some frankly inappropriate behavior from my past was just about the last thing I wanted to do, over tea (PG Tips) and Hobnobs (sadly, always in plentiful supply since Jax died), it looked like that’s exactly what Leonard had meant by “certain other aspects.”

Judging by his eagerness, he’d clearly been more productive in a few hours than I’d been at work all day, unless you’d call getting through a six-month-old OK! magazine easy sudoku in a personal best time of eight minutes a worthwhile achievement. And when he sat down at my kitchen table, pulled out a small silver laptop from his backpack and started tapping away at it like a court reporter, it was my first sign that judging a book by its cover definitely wasn’t advisable in Leonard’s case. The second was the Excel spreadsheet labeled Finding Fathers that appeared on the screen after a particularly dramatic flourish on the keyboard.

My surprise must have been obvious, and Leonard looked quite delighted about it.

“Tactical communications specialist in my army days, don’t forget, my dear, so I’ve always been an old dog looking for new tricks. I’ve been part of the IT generation since 1977.” He pushed his glasses back on his nose and looked at me through the smudge of a fingerprint.

“Iris and I were selling the first Tandy TRS-80s out of our shop before most people in Penzance even knew what a personal computer was. Iris’s idea, actually. Funny thing, though, she was never remotely interested herself. Pen and paper all the way it was for her, right up...” He trailed off and blinked rapidly a couple of times, removing his glasses and rubbing them absently on his sleeve. “Well, I mean, why not, when you have handwriting as lovely as my Iris does? Anyhow, my dear, why don’t you have a look at what I’ve done here?”