‘Our lab boys just want to run a few tests, son, that’s all,’ Brady informed him. ‘If they come out right, you’ll be completely eliminated from the whole enquiry. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘You go to hell,’ Harold shouted furiously. ‘And you can knock off the Father Christmas act.’

There was a knock on the door and a constable entered carrying a pair of police uniform trousers. ‘Better get into those and do as you’re told,’ Miller said, tossing them across. ‘You’ll make it a lot easier on yourself in the long run.’ He turned to Brady. ‘I’ve got things to do. I’ll see you later.’

The medical report on Faulkner which C.R.O. had promised was waiting on his desk. He read it through quickly, then again, taking his time. When he was finished, he sat there for a while, staring into space, a frown on his face. He finally got up and crossed to Mallory’s office taking the report with him.

The Chief Superintendent was seated at his desk examining a file and glanced up impatiently. ‘Took you long enough. What’s going on then?’

‘Brady’s got him in the Interrogation Room now, sir. His trousers have gone over to Forensic for examination. I understand Inspector Wade’s got one of the Medical School serologists to come in. You should get a quick result.’

‘You saw the mother?’

Miller told him what had taken place at Narcia Street.

‘From the looks of her, I wouldn’t give her long.’

Mallory nodded. ‘So Master Harold could have awakened her at any time with that cup of tea, that seems to be what it comes down to. From what the doctor says she wouldn’t know whether it was yesterday or today in her condition.’

‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘Good show.’ Mallory rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ll let him stew for a while then get to work. I don’t think he’ll last long.’

‘You sound pretty certain.’

‘You’re a smart lad, Miller, so I’m going to tell you something for your own good. You don’t know what it’s all about up here in the sticks. I’ve been on more murder investigations than you’ve had hot dinners. You get an instinct for these things, believe me. Harold Phillips killed that girl – I’d stake my reputation on it.’

‘And what about Faulkner? He’s still a strong possibility in my book. Have you read Constable Dwyer’s report yet on what happened last night?’

‘I know what you’re going to say,’ Mallory said. ‘He saw Faulkner at a coffee stall in Regent Square just before the murder took place.’

‘Something he conveniently forgot to mention to us when we questioned him.’

‘Perfectly understandable in the circumstances.’