‘No. Certainly not a financial one, if that’s what you mean. I wouldn’t know if he’d ever been there, of course, but … What …? Hang on a moment, I’m confused. What’s the link to The Spot?’

Robin felt suddenly foolish. Yes, what was the connection, apart from her and her desperate need to make any kind of progress?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t mean to imply there is one at all. As I said, at this stage, time being what it is, we’re just following up on any and every detail.’

‘Because if you are implying there’s anything criminal going on at The Spot,’ he said, all jollity gone, ‘I’d advise you to be very careful. It’s a reputable business, owned by a group of reputable people, run by a very capable manager. As I’m sure the police would be happy to confirm.’

At half past two, Maggie stood, cleared their sandwich packets off the table and tossed them into the bin. ‘Right, I’m kicking you out. Go and see your daughter. Give her my love.’

‘I’ll let you know if I hear from Tarryn,’ Robin said, putting her jacket on.

‘Yep. And I’ll keep you posted from this end. Otherwise, see you Monday.’

Across the street in the car park, Robin took a moment to think. It was earlier than she’d expected, school didn’t finish until three forty-five, so as long as she didn’t hang about, she had time for a detour. She opened Google Maps, worked out a route round the one-way system and fired up the engine.

Bishop Street was directly behind the wholesale markets, ten minutes’ walk, if that, from the Selfridges building with its spotted silver skin. They’d come this way, Digbeth, to see Harry but this time she turned off on the other side of the road, by a mean-looking building painted with a giant leprechaun and signs for Carling Black Label, its windows blinded with cardboard. A pile of boxes on the steps had been someone’s bed for the night.

After a few hundred yards, the road divided and since no one was behind her, she slowed down. The buildings here were classic small-scale industrial, two or three storeys of red brick, the better-looking ones Victorian, the modern ones built as basically as possible, plastered with garish signs. An engineering works and the printing company next door looked lively, as did a place selling sheet plastic, but next to a car-repair shop was an abandoned warehouse, its wooden despatch doors padlocked and peeling.