The Travelodge, as it turned out, was already pretty full by the time we got there. There was some Cosmetics and Beauty seminar going on apparently – did such a thing even really exist? - and a lot of the rooms had been booked in advance for those attending. We did, eventually, manage to secure ourselves a twin room which was decent enough, albeit small. There wouldn't be a whole lot of time away from each other during this trip, both sharing that tiny space, but for all intents and purposes it was just somewhere to lay our heads. Plus it was clean, had its own bathroom with fully functional hot water, that was always a bonus, and Jesse was stupendously pleased to learn that the B&B had a bar.

We dumped our luggage in the room, neither of us planned on unpacking as that would mean we had designs on staying. Jesse, by that point, was keen to leave as soon after the funeral as possible but, while I did sympathise with this feeling, there was still the pressing issue of Jesse's corruption weighing down on my shoulders. We couldn't leave while that still hung as a loose end.

The way this case had dragged on I could almost have completely forgotten about my job and settled into this strange, dull human life I'd created for myself. I realised at a point during that 'family dinner' that I wasn't just going through the motions to fit in any more, rather it was the main point of my focus as my real reason for being there fell into the background as an afterthought. I needed to pull back my focus; settling into a human existence could never be an option, not when I could there would always be that other half of myself that wouldn't fit, the part that would crave Home.

We would have to stay a little longer once the funeral was over, just long enough for me to be certain that Eric was responsible for the death of his wife, and for me to convince Jesse to take his revenge on the man. I didn't much like to think on what might happen if Eric should turn out to be innocent; things were already complicated enough and that was a whole new can of worms I wouldn't open unless I really had to. I was confident I could convince Jesse to stay, I'd let him in on my plan and my suspicions, he was already thinking most of them himself so it should be an easy enough angle to work. Getting him to shed blood though? That might be more of a struggle.

We gave the room a cursory look over, deemed it good enough to stay in – hell, it was practically the Ritz compared to some of the places I'd stayed during the course of my working life – then, by Jesse's behest, headed straight for the bar. He intended to drink away his frustrations until closing time, and I had no objections in joining him. A little probing about Eric as the alcohol loosened his tongue wouldn't go amiss either, and if I could soften him up to the idea of vengeance some more, even better.

The bar itself was a fairly basic affair. Shabby green carpet with a fleur-de-lis pattern that was once so popular, press-board furniture that might have once looked good though now were old and worn, the dark wood veneer peeling and chipped. But it all matched, from the small round tables to the straight backed chairs and tall barstools. Even the mantelpiece that surrounded the flame effect gas fire fit in with the theme. Still the height of summer, the fire wasn't lit and I shivered in the gloom of the windowless, cave-like room and wished that it was.

Almost all of the tables were filled with people, making the room feel more claustrophobic. They were all suited and booted, a little too extravagant for a gathering in this simple little B&B, and they all wore sticky label name tags – the people attending the so-called seminar. Bypassing the one or two dingy tables still empty in the corners of the room, Jesse and I made straight for the bar. He hopped up onto a barstool and planted his elbows onto the scratched surface either side of a beermat. The action was so well practised that it was almost comical.

I took up a seat beside him and scanned the drinks on offer for a moment. I didn't have much of a head for alcohol, but usually couldn't go wrong with a glass of red so that is what I requested when Jesse asked what I'd like, whatever vintage they happened to be selling – I didn't anticipate there would be a wide range of choice. He ordered a bottle rather than a glass, got himself a pint of lager and set up a running tab with our room number rather than have to dig his wallet out for each new round. I was partially dreading the bill we'd end up paying on check-out if all of our nights ended up being spent like this, though, if productive, I could hope we'd have much more important matters to tend to.

“Ahh, you've no idea how much I needed that,” Jesse grunted as he downed a third of his pint in one long draught.

I smirked as I poured myself a generous glass of the dark red wine from the bottle. “I'm going to go out on a limb and assume not all your family gatherings are like that, else you'd be a raving alcoholic by now, surely.”

Jesse shook his head, taking another drink; he'd be getting through a lot of them if he kept up that pace. “Nah, not usually. But everything that's gone on...Mum's become some kind of socialite zombie, I swear she's not usually like that. And, well, then there's Eric, things weren't so bad when Jen was there to act as a buffer. We've never got on, never will now.” He shrugged and went back to his pint.

Nothing I hadn't gleaned for myself already, but at least the conversation was heading down the right path; not having to steer the conversation towards the subject of his brother-in-law at least let me know he was ready and willing to talk about it.

“Yeah, he's not exactly a pleasant character, to put it lightly. But how much of that was because of me? Surely he's not THAT bad all the time? Your mum likes him well enough,” I said.

“Nope, even if I'd come on me own he'd have acted the same. Oh Mum likes him because he can be all suave and charming and that, he panders to anything she wants; such a suck up. Don't think Dad much likes him, but he's not really a big one for conflict. As long as Jen liked him, and he wasn't like a drug addict or anything he'd be happy for her and put up with it.”

“What did your sister see in him?”

Jesse snorted. “There's the big fucking mystery!” He finished off his pint and shrugged as he gestured to the barman for another. “I dunno, they met at uni so I guess they must have found something in common with each other.

“We were never very alike, me n Jen. She was always the brainy one, sensible and that, where as I was more out for just dicking about with my mates, playing football, getting dirty and shit. Guess we just like different types of people too. Though I will never know what she saw in Eric, the smarmy git!”

“So what does he do then?” I asked, finishing off my first glass of wine and feeling the warm buzz in my head as the alcohol settled into my system. “As he wouldn't answer the question himself, it some big secret or something.”

He scoffed, “Some boring suit and tie crap.” He'd shrugged, but I wanted something more concrete than that. “Uhh, Sales? Marketing? Something like that. I know he used to travel quite a bit, was on a work trip when Jen was killed, got back and found her couple hours later I think Mum said. Nice homecoming,” he finished, bitterly. While he had no love for Eric, in some way he did seem to feel some empathy for the man; it wasn't a situation you would wish on anyone.

“Yeah, that can't have been easy to handle.”

It sounded like a nightmare, an awful, tragic event that you'd probably only expect to see in a TV show. But it had sent the wheels in my head turning, something about it all seemed much too convenient. Perhaps it was just my suspicious nature, or the fact that I was desperately hoping Eric was guilty of this crime, but I wasn't convinced. He hadn't convinced me with his total lack of a bereaved husband act around the dinner table, nothing in his manner evoked sympathy, and being the one to find the body? Much too convenient indeed, I thought to myself. I was, perhaps, being a little too hopeful, but Eric was my one and only lead, without him I had nothing to go on.

The hours moved on, and the drinks and conversation flowed freely. Beyond what he'd already told me, Jesse had little more to add about Eric that was useful – oh plenty of cursing and insults to be sure, all more and more vulgar and harsh the drunker he became – but he didn't really know the man in any more detail than he'd already shared. It wasn't a lot to go on, but it would do; it had aroused enough suspicion in me to be going on with, plus I had my own instincts to follow, and something in them told me that the man was crooked.

Somehow along the way I managed to polish off the bottle of wine. It had shocked me slightly when I went to pour another glass and found nothing but a few drips left in the bottom of the bottle, had I really already drank that much? My head was feeling fuzzy, that was certain, the warm glow the alcohol induced was pleasant and made me smile much more than I'd felt like smiling in a long time. I became more free and open with my conversation, not shying away from questions about myself when Jesse asked them. A tiny voice inside my head was screaming at me to shut up before I revealed something that would give me away, something that would blow our whole operation, but I couldn't stop the steady stream of words as they spilled from my lips.

I don't think I said anything incriminating, if I had most people would have put them down to the drunken ramblings of a crazy woman. Besides Jesse was sailing just as far down the alcoholic river as I was, I doubted he'd remember anything we said or did that night come the cold light of the morning.

Jesse had his fill of beer and moved onto drinking shorts. The smaller quantity was easy to handle, there were only so many pints a person could consume without feeling fit to burst, but the alcohol volume in the small glasses of whiskey were certainly higher. He was about to order another bottle of wine when he noticed my lack of success in pouring a fresh glass, but I refused him. I wasn't ashamed to admit I couldn't handle another bottle of the stuff, I'd already had far more than I had ever consumed in my life – it wasn't like my job left me a whole lot of time for social, or even solitary, drinking – and I was dreading what kind of condition the morning would greet me in.

He pouted at me, “Y'know, it's not nice to leave a grieving man to drink by himself y'know...” he slurred at me, “no telling what kind of...of thing I might get up to...” He frowned, as if confused by his own words and I couldn't help the giggles that bubbled up in my throat.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I laughed and Jesse shrugged.

“Not a fucking clue,” he said, downing what remained in his glass and signalling the barman for yet another refill.

“You know we're going to be paying a fortune when we check out of here just to feed your drinking habit!”

“Precisely why you should have another one, at least I won't feel like it's all my fault then.”

I shook my head at his weird, inebriated logic, I didn't want another drink I felt out of control of my senses enough already. But when I opened my mouth I heard myself say the words, “Fine, I'll have a rum and coke.”

“Make it a double,” Jesse added to the barman just as he turned to pour the drink.

I glared at him and slapped playfully at his shoulder. “You just want me to get drunk.”

“You're already drunk, might as well go the whole hog!”

“Well, if you end up having to carry me to bed then you only got yourself to blame,” I said with a smirk as I raised my glass to him.

“I'll carry ya if I have to, jus' don't blame me if we don't make it there.” He clinked his glass against mine as we raised a bizarre toast to solidarity in drunkenness.

One night of enjoyment, I was entitled to that, one night to let my hair down and forget about all the stresses my most recent cases had thrust upon me. Jesse was actually good company, the work would wait and could begin again come tomorrow. The fuzzy, and ever increasing alcohol induced glow that engulfed my body left me contented. It wrapped me up in warm embracing arms and assured me with a soothing baritone voice that, in that moment, nothing else was important and that, surely, nothing more could go wrong.