Aaron didn’t really think Wildsmith was like that. He was also very aware that his thoughts were unfounded, unhelpful, and clouded by wanting, and it would be a lot easier if the many and worrying voices in his head would shut up for a bit.

So he set himself doggedly to work. At least it kept him busy.

The job was more frustrating than usual at the moment. Among his many other tasks, he’d looked into whether there had been a complaint about demands for protection money from a Pentonville pawnbroker, and been slapped down hard by Detective Inspector Davis, suggesting he do his own work before interfering in other people’s.

That was partly due to the Gerald Marks investigation, which was hopelessly mired. None of the leads that had seemed so enticing had gone anywhere. Marks’s increased spending money had, it seemed, been paid in cash and there were no records of where it had come from. His notebooks still hadn’t turned up, and nor had any recent client.

“Absolutely nothing, sir,” Challice summarised. “I checked back with Mrs. Trotter, and I asked at his bank. He doesn’t have a safety deposit box or anything lodged there.”

“Well, it was a good idea.”

“And...” She hesitated a fraction. “Sir, you remember Mrs. Trotter said he worked on a miscarriage of justice case? I looked it up.”

Aaron had meant to do that, and forgotten. He kicked himself mentally. “What was it?”

“It was during the war—early seventeen. A man called Thaddeus Knight—wealthy art dealer—was beaten to death in the course of a robbery. He’d had a labourer, Sammy Beech, doing some work in his garden. A young chap, not bright, but everyone said he was a nice enough fellow.” She made a face. “They found Beech dead drunk, with a bloodstained poker and a pile of cash under his bed. Beech had never been in trouble before, but there was just too much against him. He hanged.”

It was a sad story, but not out of the ordinary. “Where’s the problem?”

“The investigating officer had played cards with the victim a few times—in private homes, of course. He reported that at the outset of the case, but it was a very slight acquaintance, and neither owed the other money, and there was a war on and a shortage of manpower, so they left him in charge of the case. The defence barrister made quite a fuss about that in court. He said it was entirely inappropriate and the officer should have stood down, and that seems to be what the Beech family stuck on.”

This was definitely ringing a bell. “Wait. The investigating officer—”

“The DDI, sir. It was Mr. Colthorne.”

“Right,” Aaron said. “Right. Was any substance found to the family’s complaints?”