DI Cristopher Yarrow finished his breakfast of boiled egg and toast, had a second cup of tea, rinsed out his plate, teacup and saucer and left them to dry on the draining board.
He went upstairs to the bathroom to clean his teeth, noticing in passing that he had not trimmed his moustache evenly, it was shorter on the right side than the left, but he had no time to trim it again this morning, it would have to wait until tomorrow.
Trimming his moustache was one of those wifely jobs that Marie-Hélène used to do for him, often as not giving him a kiss when she had finished. He sighed deeply at the memory, one of so many memories crowding into his mind whenever he thought of her.
He suddenly felt the need to urinate and as he was buttoning up his flies, he noticed that he was almost out of
