‘Oh, we’ll have to make further enquiries, sir,’ Mallory said. ‘We’ll probably have to see you again, of course, you realize that.’

They walked to the door and Faulkner opened it for them. ‘What about her boyfriend, Superintendent? Harold, I think she called him.’

‘I don’t follow you, sir.’

Faulkner laughed boyishly. ‘I suppose I’d better come clean. He arrived just as we were leaving The King’s Arms. There was something of a scene. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but he was pretty angry at the girl more than me.’

‘That’s very interesting, sir,’ Mallory said. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

He went out. As Miller moved to follow him, Faulkner tapped him on the shoulder. ‘A private word, Sergeant,’ he said softly and the smile had left his face. ‘Stay away from my fiancée in future. One likes to know when a friend is a friend. The trouble with all you bloody coppers is that you’re on duty twenty-four hours a day.’

There was a sudden viciousness in his voice, but Miller refused to be drawn. ‘Good night, Mr Faulkner,’ he said formally and went out.

Faulkner slammed the door and turned with a frown. For a while he stood there looking thoughtful, then moved back to the drawing board. He removed the clean sheet of cartridge paper, disclosing a sketch of the four statues. After a while he picked up his pencil and started to add an additional figure with bold, sure strokes.

Outside in the street, it was still raining heavily as Miller and Mallory got into the Chief Superintendent’s car where Jack Brady waited with the driver.

‘What did you think?’ Mallory demanded.

Miller shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. He’s not the sort you meet every day of the week. Did you buy his story about taking the girl back to the studio to pose for him?’

‘It’s crazy enough to be true, we just can’t tell at this stage. He’s certainly right about one thing – the girl’s boyfriend wants checking out.’ He turned to Brady. ‘You can handle that one. The fiancé’s name is Harold, that’s all we know. The girl’s father should be able to give you the rest. When you get the address, go straight round and bring him down to Central for questioning.’

‘What about me, sir?’ Miller asked.

‘You can go back to that damned party. See Joanna Hartmann and check Faulkner’s story. I still don’t understand why he left so early. I’ll see you at Central as well when you’ve finished. Get cracking then – I’ll drop Brady off.’

His car moved away into the rain. Miller watched it go and sighed heavily as he got into the Mini-Cooper. His second visit to Joanna Hartmann’s that night was something he didn’t fancy one little bit.

8