‘Well, Tailby really screwed up big this time,’ he said. ‘Another body, and a potential suspect topped himself before we could lay hands on him. Doesn’t look good, does it? They’ll be saying he hesitated too long.’

‘It’s not his fault,’ said Ben Cooper.

‘Let’s face it, Tailby’s lost it. Wasn’t there some talk about him going for an admin job?’

The workman made a few notes on the back of an envelope and then started to put away his tape measure. The woman behind the counter followed every movement he made as if she were prepared to repel him with boiling hot tea if he came any closer.

‘Looks like we could be seeing the last of Teabag Tracy there as well,’ said Weenink.

‘Probably.’

Weenink turned to look at Cooper. ‘What’s up with you, then? I can’t get more than one word out of you. And you’ve got that look on your face again – the one like a constipated camel.’

‘I’m worried about Wayne Sugden.’

‘Come off it! Sugden? That is definitely a bloke whose parents were wading in the shallow end of the gene pool.’

Half an hour later, DI Hitchens burst through Tailby’s door and found him staring morosely at the ceiling, an unlit pipe in his mouth.

‘Forensics report,’ said Hitchens breathlessly. ‘We’ve got a result.’

‘Already? The Leach house?’

Hitchens shook his head vigorously. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Owen Fox.’

The DI set a new batch of tapes running when they brought the Area Ranger back to the interview room.

‘Tell me again what sort of cigarettes you smoke.’

‘I don’t,’ said Owen. He looked tired, his beard tangled from constantly running his fingers through it.

‘When did you give up?’

‘I’ve never smoked,’ said Owen. ‘You’ve asked me this before. What’s the point of this?’

‘All right. Do you recognize these cigarette stubs?’

‘Of course not. You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘Do they look pretty much the same to you?’

‘Of course they do.’

‘You’re right, they are. Identical. The same brand, the same batch, smoked in just the same way. Look at how exactly the same amount has been left before the filter, how they’ve been pinched between the fingers in precisely the same way. They could almost have come from the same packet, Owen. Except for their age. Do you agree?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘We found one in the bin at your briefing centre.’

‘I’ve told you, I don’t smoke. If you found it there, I don’t know how it got there.’

Hitchens nodded. ‘Do you want to know where we found the other one?’

Owen didn’t respond.

‘I’ll tell you anyway,’ said Hitchens. ‘It was under Rosalind Daniels’ body.’