Dalgliesh, she knew, would be tied up for part of the morning with his interview with the coroner’s officer, and saying his goodbyes to the Chief Constable and expressing his gratitude for the help and cooperation his force had provided, particularly DC Warren. Then he planned to drive to Bournemouth for his interview with Philip Kershaw. He had already made his formal goodbyes to Mr. Chandler-Powell and the small group at the Manor, but he would be returning to the Old Police Cottage to collect his baggage. Now Kate asked Benton to stop there and wait in the car so that she could check that the Dorset police had removed all their equipment. She knew that the kitchen would need no checking to ensure that it was clean, and, going upstairs, she saw that the bed had been stripped and the bedclothes neatly folded. During the years she and Dalgliesh had worked together, she had always experienced this slight twinge of nostalgic regret when a case was over and the place in which they had met, sat and talked at the end of the day, however short their stay, was finally left vacant.

Dalgliesh’s grip was downstairs, ready packed, and she knew that his murder bag would be with him in the car. The only equipment remaining to be moved was the computer, and on impulse she typed in her own password. A single e-mail came up on the screen.

Dearest Kate. An e-mail is an inappropriate way in which to convey something important but I have to be sure that this reaches you and, if you reject it, it will be less permanent than a letter. I have been living like a monk for the last six months to prove something to myself and I know now that you were right. Life is too precious and too short to waste time on people we don’t care for, and much too precious to give up on love. There are two things I want to say which I didn’t say when you said goodbye because they would have sounded like excuses. I suppose that’s what they are, but I need you to know. The girl you saw me with was the first and last since we became lovers. You know I never lie to you.

The beds in a monastery are very hard and lonely and the food is terrible.

My love, Piers.

She sat for a moment in silence, which must have lasted longer than she thought, because it was broken by the hooting of Benton’s car. But now she didn’t need to pause for more than a second. Smiling, she tapped in her reply.

Your message received and understood. The case here is finished, although not happily, and I shall be back in Wapping by seven. Why not say goodbye to the Abbot and come home? Kate.

Chapter 8

8