There was an electric moment and then Murray cut in smoothly. ‘All very interesting, gentlemen, but you didn’t allow me to finish the story. If it’s of any use to you, the girl had intercourse just before her death.’

Mallory frowned. ‘No suggestion of rape, is there?’

‘None whatsoever. In view of the conditions I would say the act took place against the wall and definitely with her consent. Of course one can’t judge whether under threat or not.’

Mallory got to his feet. ‘Only another nail in his coffin.’ He turned to Miller. ‘Go and get Phillips now and bring the clothes he was wearing last night. I’ll expect you back within half an hour.’

There was a time to argue and a time to go quietly. Miller went without a word.

Miller met Brady coming down the steps of the main entrance of the Town Hall. ‘You look as if you’ve lost a quid and found a tanner,’ he told Miller. ‘What’s up?’

‘We’ve got to pull Harold Phillips in right away. Mallory thinks he’s the mark.’

‘Harold – the Rainlover?’ Brady said incredulously.

Miller shook his head. ‘Could be this wasn’t a Rainlover killing, Jack. There were differences – I’ll explain on the way.’

‘Did you and Mallory have a row or something?’ Brady asked as they went down the steps to the Mini-Cooper.

‘Not quite. He’s got the bit between his teeth about Harold and I just don’t see it, that’s all.’

‘And what about Faulkner?’

‘The other side of the coin. Mallory thinks exactly as I do about Harold.’

‘He could change his mind,’ Brady said as they got in the car. ‘I’ve just seen a report from Dwyer, the beat man who found the body and got slugged.’

‘How is he?’ Miller said as he switched on the ignition and drove away.

‘A bit of concussion, that’s all. They’re holding him in the Infirmary for observation. There’s an interesting titbit for you in his report though. Says that about ten minutes before finding the body, he bumped into a bloke leaving the coffee stall in Regent Square.’

‘Did he recognize him?’

‘Knows him well – local resident. A Mr Bruno Faulkner.’

The Mini-Cooper swerved slightly as Miller glanced at him involuntarily. ‘Now that is interesting.’

He slowed suddenly, turning the car into the next street and Brady said, ‘Now where are we going? This isn’t the way to Narcia Street.’

‘I know that coffee stall,’ Miller said. ‘Run by an old Rugby pro called Sam Harkness. He usually closes about nine on a Sunday morning after catching the breakfast trade.’

Brady shook his head sadly. ‘Mallory is just going to love you for this. Ah well, a short life and a merry one.’ He eased back in the seat and started to fill his pipe.’