The meanest Flood

wanna come in?’ he asked.
    The first one looked along the street, both ways. ‘Mr Turner?’
    ‘You know who I am,’ Sam told him.
    ‘I wonder if we could come inside for a minute, sir. It’s a little exposed here on the doorstep. I’m Chief Inspector Delaney and this is my Sergeant.’
    Sam turned and led them into his sitting room. He picked up the carton of lasagne and took it towards the kitchen. ‘This’ll have to go back in the oven,’ he said. ‘I’m not prepared to share it.’
    He couldn’t see because he had his back to them, but Sam imagined their faces lighting up at his little joke. And if not now, then later, when the penny dropped.
    He put the lasagne back in the oven and rejoined his visitors. He’d absent-mindedly brought the oven glove with him and kept it on his right hand as he sat on the chaise, his usual chair being occupied by Chief Inspector Delaney with an open notebook on his lap. Delaney had a long nose which complimented his thin cemetery tie.
    The CD player turned itself off and Sam looked from Delaney to the Sergeant. He said, ‘Somebody been breaking the law?’
    ‘Do you know a Mrs Katherine Turner?’ Delaney asked, glancing at his notebook to see if he’d got it right.
    Before they got married she was called Katherine Crouch. Sam had wondered if she wanted to marry him for his name. She’d certainly hung on to it after their separation and divorce, not been at all keen on slipping back into the Crouch identity. Sam didn’t mind. Hell, a woman is entitled to something out of a marriage.
    Crouch might not have been such a bad name if Katherine had been tall and willowy. But she was short and tended to walk with her chin tucked into her chest. This was a great pity as she had a nice face, a straight nose and large brown eyes that were completely lost to the world. When he first heard her name Sam had wanted to laugh at the irony.
    But back in those days he hadn’t been much of a catch either. The two of them met over a bottle and their whole liaison, including the marriage, was conducted in an alcoholic haze. Katherine had surfaced first, several years before Sam considered that he might be drinking too much. She’d gone on to another life, leaving him in much the same state she’d found him - halfway down one bottle and plotting how to acquire the next. King of the drunks, only pausing between one swallow and the next to throw up on the world.
    It was so long ago it seemed like a different planet. Sam couldn’t work out if his memories of the marriage were recollections or merely constructs of his mind. And he’d never been able to figure out what a memory was; if it related to something held dear, something unforgettable, or if it was a kind of shroud of something that was lost for ever.
    ‘I wouldn’t claim to know her,’ he said. ‘We were married. Long time ago.’
    ‘Have you seen her recently?’
    Sam shook his head.
    ‘When did you last see her?’
    ‘I dunno. Twenty years ago? We lost touch. I don’t know what happened to her.’
    Most of the women he’d known, Sam could track down if necessary. He’d have an address or a telephone number, or at least a general location. But Katherine had disappeared. She could be anywhere in the country, anywhere in the world. She’d spent as much time and energy on staying in contact with Sam Turner as he’d spent on staying in contact with her. No time at all. It wasn’t Sam’s shortest marriage but it was the most ill-matched. There must have been some attraction between them, but try as he might, Sam couldn’t think what it was.
    ‘Something happened to her?’ he asked. ‘What’s with the questions?’
    The cops exchanged a glance. Delaney, the talking one, said, ‘Been to Nottingham recently, Mr Turner?’
    There’s a general rule when talking to the police. They’re out to trap you so it’s a good idea to stay as close to the truth as possible. If you were in Nottingham yesterday and they ask you if you’ve been to Nottingham recently the best thing is to say you were there yesterday. Explain what you were doing there. Let them see you’ve got nothing to hide. That way they’ll go away and ask questions of someone else.
    But rules are made to be broken. Sam said, ‘Nottingham? Can’t remember the last time I was there. Year or two back, I was on a case, took a day or two. I can’t remember.’
    ‘Where were you yesterday?’ the Chief Inspector asked. ‘My day off,’ he said. ‘I