The Various Haunts of Men (Simon Serrailler 1)

Outside, it was quiet and the sun had almost slipped off the great west door.

Simon walked quickly out into the close towards his own building. He would not go back to the station. Let them think what they would. For the rest of the day he could face no one at all.

In his flat, he threw his jacket on to the sofa, then went into the kitchen and poured himself a whisky and water. It was cool here, cool and peaceful, ordered and still.

The cathedral clock struck four.

After a moment, seeing the light blinking on his answerphone, he leaned over and clicked it on. The voice was both warm and businesslike.

‘It’s Diana. Haven’t spoken for a bit. Miss you. Give me a call back?’

It was the only message.

Simon paused for a second, before pressing the button to erase it.