The Burden of Doubt by Angela Dracup

made a speedy getaway and slipped through our fingers.’
    ‘I see.’ Patel showed no surprise or anger. He simply continued to look worn out and irredeemably sad.
    Swift had the impression the man sitting opposite him was breaking up inside. ‘It goes without saying that we’re makingevery effort to trace him. We’ve circulated his picture to the press and media. He’s going to find it difficult to remain in hiding.’
    ‘Ah.’ Patel sighed. He looked utterly spent, as though he was almost indifferent regarding what Swift had to say. ‘This man Busfield,’ he said, slowly, ‘it means nothing to me, and I can’t recall that Moira ever mentioned a man of that name. But then, you see, we never discussed such issues. Moira took charge of everything concerning the house – and indeed the garden, employing workpeople when necessary. She was a highly efficient and organized person.’ His voice faded to a mere breath. He picked up one of the photographs and held it in his fingers, but his gaze was fixed blankly on the far wall at the far edge of his vision.
    Swift steeled himself once again. ‘Professor, we have reliable information from our pathologist that one of the two foetuses Moira was carrying did not share your DNA.’ He left it to Patel to work things out.
    A flicker of nervous energy travelled over Patel’s heavy eyelids as he processed the information. He made some noises in his throat, but Swift was not able to gather any meaning from them.
    ‘Had you had any idea that she was seeing someone else?’ Swift asked.
    Patel gave a small jerk of his head, indicating a negative response. ‘She was constantly working with male colleagues,’ he said slowly. ‘She was an exceedingly attractive woman.’
    ‘But had you any suspicions that she might be having an affair?’ Swift pressed quietly.
    ‘No,’ said Patel, and his desolation seemed to invade the room like a creeping fog.
    ‘Maybe it wasn’t a sustained affair,’ Swift said. ‘Maybe just a one night stand, something done on the spur of the moment and instantly regretted.’
    Patel considered. ‘No, not Moira,’ he said with a degree of firmness. ‘No one night stands,’ he said, distaste distorting his stern features.
    Swift left a respectful silence.
    ‘When you discover the identity of the father of the twin that wasn’t mine,’ Patel said, enunciating his words with great deliberation, ‘I would ask you to give me the choice of remaining ignorant.’
    Swift guessed that Patel would be aware that there was no possibility of his giving such a guarantee.
    ‘Do you think you will ever find the whereabouts of your prime suspect?’ Patel asked. ‘This Shaun Busfield?’
    ‘Yes.’ Swift had not hesitated.
    ‘And do you really think he killed my wife?’
    ‘As I told you previously, Professor, we have evidence to link him with the crime,’ Swift said.
    ‘Yes,’ Patel agreed slowly, his expression suggesting that he found the notion of Moira’s having been killed by a virtual stranger hard to credit.
    Swift got to his feet, bringing the interview to a close. ‘You could move back to your own house tomorrow,’ he said gently. ‘We’ve finished gathering evidence.’
    A tremor crossed Patel’s face; he closed his eyes briefly. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. My neighbour is not back for another few days. I know she won’t mind if I stay on here for a little longer.’
    As Swift let himself out, he asked himself, not for the first time, what he would have chosen to do about his living arrangements if Kate had been killed in their house. On balance he thought he couldn’t have borne to set foot in the place ever again once the body had been taken away. But maybe the reality would have been different.
    Later on, when Patel was again on his own he let his thoughts linger on Moira’s sudden and brutal death. He forced himself to say the words. ‘My beloved wife has been cut down and murdered in the prime of