They walked round the quarry edge to a sheltered spot enclosed by two rocks. In a shallow basin in one of the rocks were what appeared at first to be a series of giant candles. They were made of wax, a foot tall, and they had been carefully sculpted, each into the same distinctive shape, with a long straight shaft, faintly ribbed with veins, and a swollen, rounded head like a cowl, with a small hole in the very tip. They were all sorts of colours – swirling blues and reds, butter yellow, subtle tints of brown and green, and a pure white one, with delicate streaks of gold in the veins of the shaft. They stood like soldiers on parade, pointing permanently skywards.

‘That’s disgusting,’ said Tailby.

‘They represent the phallus,’ said Hitchens.

‘I can see exactly what they represent,’ said Tailby. ‘And phallus wasn’t the word that sprang to mind.’

‘I think it probably takes quite some doing to get the shape just right, like that. I was thinking of a nomination for the Turner Prize.’

‘And who is the Leonardo da Vinci we have to thank for this lot?’

‘The one called Cal. He’s quite proud of them. He calls this place the phallus farm.’

‘They’re obscene.’

‘I doubt they’re committing an offence,’ said Cooper.

‘I don’t want to look at them. Let’s go back.’

They walked back round the quarry to the path. Cooper noticed a group of women appear on the far side of the quarry. They were wearing cagoules and leggings, bright and chatty. They looked down at Cal and Stride for a while, then walked past the birch tree and studied the wind chimes.

‘Where’s Acting DS Fry?’ asked Tailby. ‘Wasn’t she here earlier?’

‘She has one of her sessions with Maggie Crew,’ said Hitchens.

‘Oh, yes.’ The DCI drew the words out like a sigh. He didn’t sound hopeful of Maggie Crew.

Tailby stood quietly for a minute, staring at the van and the two youths. ‘I’ve got a press conference to do in half an hour,’ he said. ‘What am I going to tell the TV and the newspapers?’

‘How about telling them to keep out of our bloody way?’ suggested Hitchens.

‘All right,’ said Tailby. ‘I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.’

The group of women had moved on. They could be heard chatting again for a while. But they fell very silent when they reached the rock that contained the phallus farm.

At the West Street HQ, they had already been making structural alterations to the canteen. They had succeeded in making it both smaller and less welcoming at the same time. Perhaps it was a deliberate ploy to make the introduction of the vending machines seem like an improvement.