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twitched. He closed his eyes, felt the heat of the room smother him. Eventually he opened his eyes. Price cleared his throat and looked a little uncomfortable.
    ‘One other important point to mention, which could be pertinent in our investigation, is that on the occasion of the last sighting of Mr Whitehouse, he was accompanied by his family dog, a distinctive border collie with a white patch over its right eye. The dog was wearing a plain leather collar but unfortunately nothing to identify it or its owners.’ Price paused, looked down at the desk. ‘The dog answers to the name of Rebus.’ There was a smattering of nervous laughter in the room, quickly snuffed out as Price looked up. ‘Apparently Mr Whitehouse was a fan of the fictional detective. The deceased was found with a dog lead in his pocket, but so far the dog has yet to be located.’
    A dog. Rebus the fucking dog. Where was he? Billy pushed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and tried to breathe. He never saw a dog. Adele never mentioned a dog. Adele. He raised his head to look at her. He pictured her without the glasses, the look on her face, the damaged skin around the eye.
    ‘Mrs Whitehouse will now say a few words,’ Price said, causing a maelstrom of flashes.
    Billy felt dizzy at the rushing sound of shutters clicking, the stifling room suddenly bathed in unnatural light, Adele lit up as if on a red carpet. She cleared her throat and spoke quietly but firmly, reading from a piece of paper.
    ‘First I want to say that Frank was a loving father and husband, and both Ryan and I will miss him more than words can express. He was a decent man, despite what some people, including members of the press, have said about him. He worked hard to provide for his family, and we are all devastated by his death.’
    She raised a hand and touched the arm of her glasses. Cue flashes. Billy felt disoriented and turned away. He spotted a familiar figure standing in the doorway to the right of the desk. Dean Whitehouse. Black suit, black tie, face like stone. He was staring hard at Billy.
    ‘I always knew Frank couldn’t have committed suicide,’ Adele said. ‘And now we know that his death wasn’t an accident either. I can’t begin to express my anger and outrage over this, and I implore anyone with information about my husband’s murder to come forward to the police as soon as possible.’
    Her head came up, triggering a mass of camera flashes. Billy had to close his eyes for a moment, then reopen them. With her shades on, Adele could’ve been looking at any of them, but Billy felt as if she was staring right into him.
    ‘Please.’ There was a tiny crack in her voice. ‘Please help us find who did this to Frank. If not for me, then for the sake of our son, who’s lost his father.’
    Billy wanted to console her, take her in his arms and squeeze until everything was all right.
    ‘Thank you.’ Adele got up. There was a crescendo of noise, camera flashes going off, reporters shouting her name, DI Price trying to calm things down.
    A burst of energy swept through Billy and he jumped from his seat. He propelled himself towards the door Adele was heading to, where Dean was waiting with an arm outstretched for her.
    ‘Adele,’ he shouted, his voice lost in the chaos.
    She glanced round then turned away through the door.
    Dean glared at him then followed her.
    The skin bristled all over Billy’s face and neck, like an electric shock. Small bursts of light exploded in the corner of his vision like mini fireworks. He caught a smell of something, burnt coffee or a whiff of the skunk he’d shared with Adele. A pain leapt across his left shoulder and surged into the back of his neck. He felt his legs go from under him. He knocked a chair over on the way down, heard Rose shout his name, then his vision blurred and his mind emptied as he collapsed on the floor.

12
     
     
    The whole length of Queen’s Drive was closed off. Billy stood at the top staring at