by Graham Ison
‘Thank you, My Lord,’ said Forbes. He bowed to the judge and turned to descend the dock steps for the last time.
Outside Court Number One, in the vast echoing Grand Hall, I encountered a sombre Philip Forbes comforting his wife Nancy who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
‘I imagine it to have been a foregone verdict, Chief Inspector,’ said Forbes.
‘I think so, sir,’ I said.
‘A case of our son’s misplaced idea of justice for his grandmother, I suppose,’ said Forbes, and he and his wife turned away.
Kate Ebdon, Dave and I crossed the road to the Magpie and Stump public house for a well-deserved glass of ale. ‘Well, that’s another one dealt with, guv,’ said Dave.
I bought pints of best bitter for Dave and me, and a gin and tonic for Kate, and we moved to a quiet corner of the saloon.
‘I understand that you’re thinking about moving in with Miss Sutton, guv,’ said Dave suddenly. Kate looked up, her face displaying great interest at this juicy snippet.
‘Where the hell did you get that idea from?’ I asked. I was surprised that he knew about it even though I was aware that Gail and Madeleine had fairly frequent phone conversations. But those calls were usually to compare notes about the difference between classical and modern dance.
‘I’m a detective, sir,’ said Dave. ‘But have you decided whether you’re going to move in with her, or not?’
I glanced at my watch. ‘Time we were getting back to the factory, Dave,’ I said.