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to go down and tell your dad.’

While Louise and Steph were upstairs, Oldroyd stood in the entrance hall and took a call from his wife, who naturally sounded very concerned.

‘She’s okay, Julia . . . Yes, I’m here. There’s no need to drop everything and come rushing over. We’re coming over to Leeds tomorrow . . . Yes, Louise too. We need to look at the victim’s flat . . . No, we haven’t caught the killer, but I can’t see there’s a threat to anyone else. He’s a friend of Louise’s; it looks as if it was a row that went wrong . . . Yes, terrible, isn’t it? They were a couple . . . No, it was unexpected . . . She’s had a shock but she’s fine. She’s still with her friends. Maggie. Remember her? . . . Yes, and some others . . . They’re all helping each other . . . Tom Walker’s been very understanding. I’ll have to return to Harrogate soon, but I’m hoping to get back . . . Yes, I’m helping the police here; the inspector used to work for me. Okay, I’ll probably see you Saturday.’

Oldroyd ended the call to his wife, feeling relieved. He’d found her difficult to relate to since they’d separated, though they’d always remained in touch. Clearly she wanted to see Louise, but he didn’t think her coming to Whitby would help the situation. There wasn’t much she could do and he would find her presence very off-putting. Much better for her to see Louise when they were over in Leeds. It would be the weekend so she would be off work. It was bad enough that their daughter was involved in this; he didn’t want to have to deal with any marital stuff as well.

He went back into the apartment and looked round the living room. Mark Garner, Maggie’s boyfriend, a handsome blonde-haired young man, had arrived. They were sitting together on one sofa and Maggie’s head was resting on Mark’s shoulder. Jack Ryerson, the late arrival at the doomed weekend away, was sitting in an armchair looking at his phone. Ben was in another armchair reading a magazine. They looked at Oldroyd and he felt their embarrassment at his presence but before he had time to say anything Steph and Louise returned from the bedroom and Steph showed him the holster and the ammunition box. Oldroyd examined them and then turned to the others.

‘Did any of you know that Dominic carried a gun?’

‘A gun!’ exclaimed Mark. ‘No!’

‘Why would he need a gun?’ asked Ben. He seemed to think this over for a moment. ‘Ah, but wait a minute, he once told us his uncle gave him a gun. Jack, do you remember? In the pub that time? We were talking about weird stuff people have in their attics. There must have been something on the telly, and he said he had a gun hidden away.’

Jack nodded. ‘Yeah, he did. And didn’t he say his uncle was in the army, in Afghanistan or somewhere, and he’d kept some weapons when he was discharged?’

‘Yes, and that wasn’t legal so he kept the gun secret.’ Ben turned to Maggie. ‘I’m sure you were there that night, Maggie?’

‘Yes, I was,’ said Maggie. ‘He was very fond of his uncle. Didn’t he keep the gun as a memento? But why would he bring it up here? Bloody hell! Whatever next?’

‘Was there anyone who had threatened him in the past? Anyone whom he might have reason to fear?’ asked Oldroyd.

They all looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders.

‘Everyone liked Dominic; he was a nice guy, even if he had a bit of a stormy relationship with Andrea,’ said Ben.

Oldroyd frowned. This was another odd development. The gun had been there for a reason and the fact that it was out of character for Dominic to carry it suggested that he’d been expecting trouble. He knew it was illegal, but he still had the gun with him. Was Andrea’s murder connected to this? How? He hadn’t shot her, but presumably he had the gun with him now so he must have been carrying it that day. Or had he hidden it somewhere? Oldroyd didn’t know the answers but, more and more, events were suggesting that Louise was right: this was not going to be an open- and-shut case.

Andrea’s parents were brought into Granger’s office. They seemed much older and more fragile than they probably were as they shuffled in, bent over with their grief. The mother’s face was dazed and blank with the shock; the father’s tight with anger. Andrea had been their only child.

Granger expressed her condolences to them and explained what the police knew about their daughter’s death. The mother said nothing but started to weep quietly.

‘I never liked him, that Holgate,’ declared the father in a pronounced Yorkshire accent. ‘He was a smooth-talking southerner type; he never looked after her. We heard them arguing when they came to stay with us, didn’t we, Joyce?’ He turned to his wife, who nodded but remained silent. He turned back to Granger and shook his head. He wasn’t far from tears himself. ‘What can you do? You can’t tell your children who to go out with, can you?’

‘No.’ Granger smiled sympathetically, thinking about her own problems with Lesley.

‘Are you going to catch the bastard?’ the father blurted out, caught between grief and anger.

‘I’m sure we will, Mr Barnes. I’ve got lots of officers on the case and they’re searching everywhere.’

‘Good. Don’t let me near him when you find him or . . .’ He looked away, unable to finish his sentence.

‘You say you heard them arguing. Was Holgate ever violent towards her?’

‘Not when I was around; he wouldn’t bloody dare.’

‘And what did they argue about?’

Barnes glanced at his wife. ‘It was money, wasn’t it?’ She nodded, still seemingly incapable of speech. ‘I don’t think either of them made much money in their jobs and they struggled to live in London. Andrea wanted them to move up to Leeds and live in our Caroline’s flat, but he wouldn’t have it. I think he wanted her to

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