With a smile, Marie turned and left. What would she do if Jackman ever left? She couldn’t see herself working with anyone else.

‘What are you thinking about? You’re miles away.’ Gary was grinning at her.

‘Oh, just thinking how bloody lucky I am.’

‘Well, that’s nice to know. Just won the lottery then?’

She beamed at him. ‘As good as. I’ve just realised I have friends who care for me.’

‘You’ve been at the magic mushrooms again, haven’t you? I’ve told you before, not while you’re on duty.’

Marie gave his arm a playful cuff. ‘Okay, Pritchard, make my day and tell me you’ve got something juicy on old Nan Cutler.’

‘Ah. Well, that’s where your day goes tits up, I’m afraid.’ Gary threw up his hands. ‘Guess what! She’s ordinary!’

‘That’s what I said to Jackman, but the fact remains someone murdered her and tried to make it look like an accident. You don’t do that to an ordinary person, especially one who’s over ninety.’

‘And nick her dead husband’s clothes. Are we dealing with a fruitcake here?’ Gary said.

‘I’m not sure what we’re dealing with,’ said Marie. ‘But I’ll be a lot happier when he’s locked up downstairs and not creeping around Saltern in the depths of night.’

* * *

Sam Page drove to Lincoln, found somewhere to park and strolled across to the Birdcage. He guessed Hughie would be late. Time meant little to his friend — he tended to become embroiled in his thoughts and lose all track of time.

Today, however, proved the exception to the rule, and both men arrived together. Sam had known Hughie Mackenzie a long time. He was a somewhat eccentric character who often wore his favourite Mackenzie kilt to lectures. He was lively and talkative, and possessed of a keen and perceptive brain.

‘I hear you’ve been in the wars, old man,’ Hughie began. ‘Shot, no less.’

Sam pulled a face. ‘Yes, it was touch-and-go for a while. The bullet managed to nick an artery.’

‘Well, I must say you look remarkably healthy for it,’ Hughie said.

‘Thanks to Laura and her partner Rowan Jackman. They looked after me so well I had no choice but to make a splendid recovery.’

Sam opened the door for Hughie and they sought out a table.

‘So, Sam, why the interest in sleepwalkers?’ Hughie asked once they’d caught up with their news and finished their respective meals.

‘It’s Laura, actually. She has a GP referral that’s worrying her. I don’t have the full story yet. All I really know is that he drives in his sleep. Laura’s asked me for case histories and I’ve almost none to offer.’

Hughie sat back. ‘I have quite a few, in fact.’ He opened the briefcase he’d been carrying and pulled out a file. ‘I printed off several of the more interesting ones for you. It’s a fascinating subject. I can tell you now that it would be perfectly possible for this patient of Laura’s to drive while sleeping, but only if he was on home territory and knew the roads. Sleepwalkers need to be in familiar surroundings to orient themselves.’ Hughie smiled, beginning to warm to his subject. ‘You see, sleepwalkers are essentially awake and asleep at the same time — the part of the brain that controls motion is awake while they are in a state of deep sleep, and the part that controls awareness and cognition remains unconscious.’