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DC Hawke was pleasant and polite, as usual. Barney swaggered in and surveyed us and the breakfast things on the table as if we’d all been having an orgy before he arrived. My hackles rose instantly and I laced my fingers together tightly to try and keep my s**t together.
Connor seemed slightly taken aback at having them in his house – maybe he’d been expecting someone else. He offered coffee and they both accepted, sitting at the other end of the table while he boiled the kettle.
‘Thought you’d be a capsule machine kind of man,’ Barney said, smirking.
‘Sorry I can’t offer you a cappuccino,’ Connor said, and I hid a smile.
Hawke had his notebook and pen out, as if he wasn’t in the mood to waste time on Barney’s jibes. ‘Ms Westerholme, I’m sorry to hear about your car and the pub. We
