She blinked and focused her eyes on Miller. ‘Who – who are you?’

Miller came forward and smiled. ‘I’m a friend of Harold’s, Mrs Phillips. He was supposed to meet me last night, but he didn’t turn up. I thought I’d better call and see if everything was all right.’

‘He’s about somewhere,’ she said in a dead voice. ‘A good boy, Harold. He brought me some tea when he came in.’

‘When would that be, Mrs Phillips?’ Miller said softly.

‘When?’ She frowned, trying to concentrate. ‘Last night, I think. That’s right – it was last night when he came in. She shook her head. ‘It gets harder to remember.’

‘Did Harold tell you that he brought you tea last night, Mrs Phillips?’

‘I don’t know – I don’t remember. He’s a good boy.’ Her eyes closed. ‘A good boy.’

Behind them the door opened and Harold appeared. ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded angrily.

‘Your mother is very ill,’ Das said. ‘I must make arrangements to have her admitted to hospital at once.’ He held up the box of Canbutal capsules. ‘Did you know she has been increasing her dosage? Didn’t I warn you that the effects could be disastrous?’

Harold had turned very pale. Brady appeared behind him and took his arm. ‘Come on, son,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

They moved to the head of the stairs and Miller went after them. ‘Are those the clothes you were wearing last night?’ he asked Harold.

Harold turned, answering in a kind of reflex action, ‘Sure.’ Then it dawned on him and fear showed in his eyes. ‘Here, what is this?’

‘Take him down,’ Miller said and turned away.

Das closed the bedroom door quietly. ‘Things don’t look too good for him, do they?’

‘He’s in for a bad time, that’s as much as I can say at the moment. What about her? Anything I can do?’

‘Don’t worry. They have a telephone next door. I’ll ring for an ambulance and stay with her till it comes. You’ll keep me posted?’

Miller nodded and they went downstairs. When he opened the door, rain drifted to meet him, pushed across the slimy cobbles by the wind. He looked down towards the Mini-Cooper where Harold sat in the rear with Brady.

‘Sunday morning,’ he said. ‘What a hell of a way to make a living.’

‘We all have a choice, Sergeant,’ Das told him.

Miller glanced at him sharply, but nothing showed in that brown, enigmatic face. He nodded formally. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ and moved out into the rain.

14

When they reached Central C.I.D. they took Harold to the Interrogation Room where, in spite of his angry protests, he was relieved of his trousers.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve got my rights, just like anyone else.’