‘But I promise you this, Bernie, if they go down over that little mare, I’ll break her neck. You won’t even be in the running for that pleasure.’

Bernadette felt her sister’s animosity then, and despite her own temper, and her real worry for her husband, a thin trickle of fear ran down her spine. Delia had pushed the wrong people too far this time.

Harry Limmington could not believe his luck as he sat in the canteen of Barkingside Police station.

The twins had left not only fingerprints, but also the blood-stained pickaxe handle in the boot of their Rolls-Royce. He had them right where he wanted them.

Sipping at his cup of steaming tea, he grinned to himself, a wide, pleased as punch kind of grin.

They had played right into his hands. It was a great feeling. Jimmy Sellars was the scum of the earth, a drug dealer, a lazy good for nothing who had never done an honest day’s work in his life. But his death had not been in vain. No, by Christ. His death had been the big stick that Harry was going to beat the Cavanaghs’ arses black and blue with. Oh, he was sure of that.

He sipped his tea again, as if it was expensive champagne. After all, this was a celebration.

Ruby Steinway was a corpulent Jew of uncertain age and temperament. He was now in Barkingside Police station with the twins and Marcus, causing his usual rumpus.

He had been their lawyer for many long years, was quick, intelligent, and best of all as bent as a two-bob clock.

Ruby waved heavily beringed hands. Diamond and rubies glittered in the fluorescent lighting.

‘Listen to me, my boys, I have everything in hand. They will keep you overnight, but I should have things under control by the morning. Obviously your prints are in the flat. After all, you have visited it on many occasions.’ He raised thick heavy eyebrows as he said this, and the three men smiled and nodded, understanding him immediately. ‘It’s just the matter of the murder weapon, and I have a feeling that that will all come right in about twelve hours. So keep your heads down, be cool and calm, and most of all,’ he glanced at Daniel and Boysie, ‘don’t lose your tempers.’

He stood up then, his heavy briefcase banging against his short fat leg. He rubbed his thigh absentmindedly.

‘I’ll bid you goodnight.’

Without bothering to shake hands with them, he bowed his head once and bustled from the room.

Limmington heard about the three suspects seeing their solicitor all at the same time and hit the roof.

‘You’re telling me they were allowed to see their brief together? They’re on a murder charge, for Christ’s sake!’