“No. It’s true. What was it you said earlier? His word against yours? Whose word do you think the judge is going to believe, Des?”

“Nobody told me—”

“Told you what?”

“Shut up. I’ve got to think.”

“You’ve not got long. Assaulting a police officer. That’s a serious charge. You’ll go down for a lot longer than nine months on that one.”

Wayman dropped his cigarette stub in the empty beer can, tossed it on the floor and opened another one. His fleshy lips were wet with foam and beer. He reached for another cigarette.

“Please don’t light another one of those, Des,” Michelle said.

“What do you mean? Surely it’s not got so bad a bloke can’t even smoke in his own house these days?”

“When we’re gone you can smoke yourself silly,” said Michelle. “That’s if we leave without you. Up to you. There’s no smoking in the holding cells anymore.”

Wayman laughed. “You know,” he said, puffing out his chest, “I’m practically one of you lot myself. I don’t know where you get off coming and pinning this assault on me when it’s police business to start with.”

Michelle felt a little shiver up her spine. “What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” Wayman touched the side of his pug nose. “I told you, I was on police business. Undercover. Sometimes a little tap on the head and a few words of warning work wonders. It’s the way they used to do things in the old days, so I hear. And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. Your boss certainly does.”

“Boss?”

“Yes. The big ugly bloke. Numero uno. Detective bloody Superintendent Ben Shaw.”

“Shaw?” Michelle had been more than half-suspecting that Shaw was behind the attacks on her and Banks, but found herself stunned to have it confirmed.

Wayman tilted the can and took a long swig, then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned. “Don’t look so surprised, love.”

“Superintendent Shaw told you to do this? Wait a minute. Are you telling me you’re an undercover police officer following Detective Superintendent Shaw’s orders?”

Wayman shrugged, perhaps sensing he’d gone too far. “Well, maybe I’m not exactly what you’d call an undercover officer, but I’ve done your boss a little favor from time to time. You know, like giving him the nod where the stuff from the Curry’s warehouse job was stashed. That sort of thing.”

“So you’re Shaw’s snitch?”

“I’ve been happy to help out now and then. He’ll see me all right. So do us a favor and bugger off, then just maybe I won’t tell your boss you’ve been round upsetting me.”

“Do you own a beige van?” Michelle asked.

“What? I don’t own a van at all. Dark blue Corsa, if you must know.”

“Ever done time for burglary?”

“You’ve read my form. Did you notice anything about burglary?”

Michelle hadn’t. So Wayman most likely wasn’t responsible for the damage to her flat and the attempt on her life. Somehow, she sensed he didn’t have the subtlety to do what had been done with the dress, even if his employer had told him about Melissa. He clearly wasn’t the only villain on Shaw’s payroll. Michelle sensed DC Collins paying rapt attention beside her. She glanced at him and he raised his eyebrows. “Look,” she said, wishing she could sit down. Her shoes were killing her. But it wasn’t worth catching something. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Des. GBH is bad enough in itself, but against a copper, well…you don’t need me to tell you…”