“A son!” Percival held his hands over his mouth. “How old is he? What does he look like? Where is he?”
“I wasn't supposed to say anything. The investigation into young Mr. Trubshaw's whereabouts is completely unofficial. Indeed, the official line is that he hasn't disappeared at all but has just gone walkabout to some pop festival or other. Indeed, there's been no missing persons report filed. However, both he and his flatmate are nowhere to be found and I can't help thinking that you turning up now, and bear in mind I'm still not entirely certain you are who you say you are, is no coincidence.”
“Have you got a picture?”
“Actually, I have. Wait here for a moment.” White left the interview room to get the notes from his desk, nodding to PC Collins who was returning with a cup of tea and a sandwich for young Mr. Trubshaw. Young was a bit of a misnomer. If he really was Sam Trubshaw's father, he was technically the elder of the two, despite being physically younger than his son. He reached his desk and pulled the file from the drawer, flipping it open to the pictures of the students gleaned from their college applications. The really did look alike. He could see the resemblance.
He paused in the canteen to fill his mug from the perpetual teapot, adding sugar to the brew purely to make the sludge drinkable. He picked out a KitKat from the vending machine to go with it. When he got back to the interview room Percival was already into the second half of his sandwich. He pushed the KitKat across the desk. “You need this more than I do.”