As soon as they were all seated around his conference table, he relayed the information he’d just received. ‘Hampshire Police have two men in custody. They were arrested following a police pursuit from the scene of an attempted burglary at a residence in Havant.’ With a grin, he added, ‘I’m sure from your encyclopaedic knowledge of South Coast geography, you know Havant is just ten miles from Chichester.’

‘I was a bit rubbish at geography at school, guv,’ Potting said. ‘Alleuvian plains and all that.’

‘Alluvial, I think you mean, Norman,’ Grace corrected him.

The DS nodded, almost wistfully. ‘Like I said, I was a bit rubbish at—’

‘Thank you, Norman,’ he said, firmly.

‘Sorry, guv,’ Potting said, looking sheepish at the reprimand. ‘Was just thinking it would be harder for me to get on in the force today, especially with having to compete with fast-track grad schemes.’

‘Me too, Norman,’ Grace said.

‘And me,’ Alldridge added. ‘Still, be their loss, eh?’

Grace smiled and continued. ‘When the officers searched the car, they found property from other burglaries in Chichester, from which cash, jewellery and electrical equipment had been stolen. All of it was recovered in the BMW vehicle in which they were travelling – and which had also been stolen some hours earlier.’

‘They’re clearly not the sharpest tacks in the box, are they, chief?’ Potting said.

‘Must be the ones that your geography teacher used to pin up his maps, Norman!’ Alldridge retorted.

Ignoring him, Grace actioned them. ‘I want you both to go straight over to Havant now and liaise with the Hampshire Police. Tell them these two suspects they have in custody are persons of interest to us in our murder enquiry, and see if they can establish their whereabouts and movements during the time we believe Stuie Starr was murdered.’ Then he added, with a grin, ‘Use your satnav, Norman, if that helps make up for your geography deficiency.’

Potting gave him a sheepish look.

‘Or if you get lost,’ Grace couldn’t help adding, cheekily, ‘ask a policeman.’

78

Tuesday 21 May

Mickey Starr’s previous cellmate, Charles Nelson, had been transferred to another prison, and to his dismay, Mickey had been moved to a different cell on the remand wing of Lewes Prison. He was now sharing with a tattooed, unfriendly and intimidating hulk of an Albanian bodybuilder called Lorik Vusaj, who was on a murder charge.

The tiny cell, as the one before, but even smaller, consisted of two bunk beds, one above the other, and a toilet and washbasin screened off by a plastic shower curtain. There wasn’t enough room to swing a mouse, let alone a cat.

By dint of the fact that Vusaj was here before him, the beefcake controlled the remote. Which meant Mickey had to endure an endless diet of football games, during which the Albanian shouted, constantly and loudly, at the screen, at pretty much every move every player – on either side – made.