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Two burly coppers got out and marched up the drive. There was a tall middle-aged one with a burgeoning waist and a s**t-sweeper of a moustache, and a younger, slimmer, well-scrubbed one. They both stopped next to my car, which was parked on the drive, and looked closely at the wheels. Rather too closely for my liking. Then they knocked on the front door.
“Bradley Sharpe?” Asked the older one when I opened it.
“That’s me,” I answered. “You can call me Brad. How can I help?”
“We’re making some enquiries, sir, about your late brother. Can we come in?” His tone was almost apologetic. It didn’t fool me.
“Of course,” I said.
I led them through the hall and they joined me and Sandra in the front room.
“Sorry to be troubling you at a time like this. We just have a few questions to ask yo
