‘Can you hear me, Joan?’ he asked. ‘Clear as a bell,’ his wife replied. ‘Is somethin’ the matter, Charlie?’ ‘Why should somethin’ be the matter?’ Woodend asked defensively. ‘I don’t know. It’s just somethin’ in your voice. An’ you never ring me when you’re workin’ on a case – except, of course, when you’re comin’ home an’ you want me to stock up with pork sausages.’ Woodend forced himself to chuckle. ‘Aye, I’m a bit of a bugger, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘Is everythin’ all right at home?’ ‘Very hectic. The removal men come tomorrow, so as you can imagine, there’s been a lot to do.’ ‘An’ how’s Annie?’ Woodend asked, dreading the answer. ‘A bit moody – but then girls are at her age, aren’t they?’ ‘Could I speak to her?’ ‘She’s not in.’ ‘But it’s after ten! What’s she doin’ out at this time of night?’ ‘One of her friends has been throwin’ a goodbye party for her,’ Joan said. A goodbye party!
