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“You’d have wanted to free him.”

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Josiah turned off the tap abruptly. “I miss Hattie, too,” he added as he towelled himself dry. “All those long walks after you died, where I’d tell her about a case and go through all the details until a pattern started to emerge. She was a great help.”

“You could get another dog,” Peter suggested.

“She wouldn’t be Hattie.”

“No, she’d be a beautiful, complex, quirky character in her own right. Your heart is big enough to love more than just one man and one dog your entire life. You’re allowed to be happy again, Joe.”

“I’m not sure I remember how.”

“My stubborn Joe.” Peter sighed.

“Yeah. You know me,” Josiah chuckled.

He pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans and a tee-shirt, then sat down on the bed.

He turned off his holonym, so he wouldn’t be disturbed, then checked in with Inquisitus.

Reed had uploaded some more information, but none of it looked very promising.

He had to think hard about where he went next with this investigation.

So far, he’d centred his enquiries around Alexander, but was that the right approach?

He’d been so sure the indie was the key to Dacre’s murder, but he kept drawing blanks.

Had his fascination with Alexander taken him down the wrong path?

He went over the evidence again, trying to immerse himself in the facts.

He reread all the forensic reports and rummaged through Dacre’s financial details, social media accounts, and press interviews.

He went through everything in painstaking detail, taking it apart.

Slow, methodical detective work always won out in the end.

He examined Dacre’s portfolio – was there something in his creative life that might have prompted his murder?

A rival holophotographer? A dispute over a piece of work?

He trawled through endless exhibition catalogues and still copies of Dacre’s work.

What was it about Elliot Dacre’s art that had made him so successful?

How much would an original Dacre holopic sell for, anyway?

He glanced at the catalogue prices – they were expensive, but not exorbitant.

He could afford one, if he liked that sort of thing.

Would someone want a specific piece so much they’d murder for it?

An exclusive Elliot Dacre original? If so, which one?

An image flashed into his mind of that holopic of Alexander, standing in the rain under a street lamp.

What had been so compelling about that image that it’d stayed in his mind long after all the others had faded?

Was it because it had felt so real, unlike the more posed pieces Dacre specialised in?

Alexander hadn’t been a blank enigma in that piece, but real flesh and blood.

The image evoked strong emotions – danger, dread, distress.

Had someone else been as struck by that image as him?

Had they wanted it for themselves and been prepared to kill to get it?

Yet both Alexander and the cleaning lady had insisted it didn’t exist. Was this the secret Alexander was hiding from him? If so, why?

His neck ached, so he moved it from side to side until it clicked. He glanced at the time – it was later than he’d realised, and his rumbling stomach insisted it was time for dinner.

He slipped his holopad into his pocket and trotted down the stairs in his slippers.

“Hey.” Alexander was flicking through a book; he looked up as Josiah entered the kitchen.

“Hey,” Josiah replied. “What are you reading?”

“A book on Pre-R cars that I found when I was clearing up. I assume it’s Peter’s – I hope you don’t mind?” Alexander said warily.

“No, of course not. I’m not going to go nuts on you again.” Josiah gave an apologetic smile. “I thought I’d call out for some hachée – do you want some?”

“That sounds really nice,” Alexander said politely. “But there’s enough of last night’s casserole left over for another meal. I’ve heated it up, and the table’s set in the dining room.”

“I was upstairs for hours. You should have eaten. ”

“I wanted to wait for you.” Alexander opened the oven door and a delicious smell wafted out. “Oh, by the way, several of your girlfriends called.”

Josiah frowned. “What?”

“I think you must have turned off your holonym? When you didn’t answer, your calls automatically came through on your old nanopad – the one you gave to me.” Placing the casserole dish on the kitchen table, Alexander began serving up.

“Damn it – I didn’t think of that.” Josiah ran a tired hand through his hair.

“You told me not to disturb you, so I answered the calls and took messages. Esther called but wouldn’t leave a message.

Then there was someone called Liz – is she the one who made the vase we were talking about this morning?

You’re right – she is pretty.” He shot Josiah a cheeky grin.

“And someone calling herself ‘Big Jen’, although she didn’t look that big to me.

And lastly an Elsie?” He looked at Josiah searchingly.

“They didn’t leave any messages, either.

I don’t think they liked me; they seemed shocked that I was answering your calls. ”

“They probably saw the shitstorm about us on the news and wanted to find out what the hell’s going on.” Josiah took out his holopad and removed the call block.

“Let’s eat first – your girlfriends can wait,” Alexander said, handing him a tray.

“Girlfriends!” Josiah snorted.

“Friends who are female, then; you do seem to have a lot of them.” Alexander led the way into the dining room.

“I like the company of women,” Josiah said, following him.

“No male friends, except for the deeply cynical and suspicious Investigator Reed?” Alexander raised an amused eyebrow.

“He’s not a friend; he’s a colleague,” Josiah said, sitting down at the table. Alexander had a knack for making the place look homely and inviting. Lamps were lit, the house was warm, and music was softly playing in the background.

“Maybe you don’t want to risk accidentally falling in love by having any male friends,” Alexander said, sitting down opposite him .

“And maybe you should give yourself an hour off from psycho-analysing me and eat something.”

Alexander laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

They’d just started eating when Josiah’s holopad buzzed.

“One of your girlfriends again?” Alexander said cheekily.

Josiah kicked him under the table and answered the call. Esther popped up in hologram form, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

“Joe – where the hell have you been?” she demanded. “I called you hours ago.”

“Sorry, Esther. Is there a problem?”

“Yes, there bloody well is. I’ve had George Tyler, of all people, calling me.”

“Ah.” Josiah glanced at Alexander, who looked suddenly terrified. “What did he want?”

“Your head on a platter. He’s demanding that I fire you.”

Josiah gave a little chuckle.

Esther glared at him. “What the hell did you do to piss off one of the most powerful men in the country?”

“My job,” Josiah replied firmly. “It’s what you pay me for.”

“But George Tyler? How is he part of your investigation into Dacre’s murder?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he isn’t.” Josiah shrugged. “All I did was ask him some questions.”

“They must have been some bloody annoying questions if he wants me to fire you.”

“He has his own agenda, and I have no idea what it is. I asked him some routine questions to rule him out of our inquiries. I don’t know why that would upset him, unless it’s the fact we had the temerity to suspect him at all.”

“Well? Do we?” Esther demanded. “Was he involved in Dacre’s murder?”

Josiah shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“So, you wasted a day questioning an innocent man who has the power to get you fired and packed off back to the Quarterlands with your tail between your legs – fine work, Joe.”

“ Are you going to fire me?” Josiah asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then he doesn’t have that power. He’s a citizen of this country like everyone else – why should he get special treatment? I’ve also questioned Dacre’s cleaning lady and solicitor, and Alexander’s personal trainer, brother, and father – none of them has registered a complaint.”

“Okay.” Esther folded her arms and glared at him. “Tell me, Joe – did you deliberately antagonise George Tyler?”

“I might have told him a few home truths,” he admitted.

“I knew it.” She threw her hands up in the air.

“Look, I don’t go out of my way to antagonise people. I just do what’s necessary to get the job done. That’s why you gave me this case.”

“True, but I know you. You’re like a bloodhound that won’t let go when you’ve got the scent of something – and that’s not always in your best interests, or ours.”

“Are you telling me to leave poor, defenceless George Tyler alone?” Josiah challenged.

“Yes. You just said he wasn’t involved in Dacre’s murder.”

“Maybe not – but he stinks to high heaven all the same.” Josiah glanced at Alexander to find him gazing back intently.

“That’s not within the remit of your investigation. Stick to solving Dacre’s murder.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes. No…” Her expression softened. “Look, I’m worried about you, Joe. I can only protect you so far – Tyler is a powerful man with powerful friends; he can make your life a misery if he chooses.”

“I can handle George Tyler,” he said confidently.

“Maybe so – but he’s got friends in high places, and a man like that doesn’t always play by the rules.”

“I did nothing wrong today. Why should I be scared of him?”

“Don’t be so na?ve,” she snapped. “Everyone has weak spots, Joe – even you. It wouldn’t take Tyler long to find them and use them against you.

” She paused and then spoke again, in a softer tone.

“I think I made a mistake in asking you to take Lytton as your IS. I understand and respect your views on the issue; I should have listened to your objections.”

“This has nothing to do with Alexander,” he told her sharply.