Faulkner moved to the door, opened it and stood back as the young constable entered with Grant’s tea. ‘Just one more thing, Mr Faulkner,’ Grant said. ‘If you could return here with the two officers when the search has been completed. I’d like a general statement from you concerning Manton.’

‘Is that really necessary?’

‘I’d appreciate any help you can give me. Any help at all.’

Faulkner looked at him, a slight frown on his face as if he couldn’t quite understand which way things were going and then he shrugged.

‘See you later, then.’

The door closed behind him and Grant reached for the pot of tea and carried it to his lips. He made a face and hurriedly put the pot down again.

‘It’s freshly made, sir,’ the young constable said defensively.

‘It’s not your fault, lad,’ Grant said. ‘It’s me. I’m getting too damned old for this game. I last saw a bed twenty hours ago, I’ve a temperature of 102 and my mouth tastes like a Russian wrestler’s armpit.’

‘Is there anything I can do, sir?’

‘Yes, find yourself a decent job while you’re still young enough to get out.’ Grant got to his feet, moved to the door, opened it and turned. ‘If you quote me on that, I’ll have you skinned.’

As he moved through the outer office, Lazer looked up and shook his head. ‘You look like something the tomb just threw up.’

‘Nothing to how I feel.’

Grant walked along the corridor, opened the door of the Interrogation Room and went in. Manton sat at the table in the centre, his head in his hands. The uniformed constable in the chair by the door got to his feet. Grant nodded, moved across to the table, sat in the chair opposite Manton and lit a cigarette.

Rain drummed against the window and the grey-green walls seemed to swim out of the shadows. There was a smell of stale cigarette smoke and fog, sharp and acrid. Manton’s head was aching and when he touched the side of his face, there was a three-inch split in the skin, swollen and tender where someone’s fist had landed during the fight at The Grange.

‘All right, we’ll try again.’ Grant’s voice seemed to come from deep under the sea. ‘From the beginning.’

‘I want a lawyer,’ Manton said in a washed-out voice. ‘I know my rights.’

‘You’re going to need one before I’m through with you,’ Grant said. ‘Now let’s have it.’

‘All right, damn you. For the third time, it was Ben Garvald. He was upstairs at the club visiting me when Brady arrived. Garvald wanted to get away and Brady tried to stop him. It was as simple as that.’

‘So Garvald tossed him downstairs?’

‘They were fighting. I don’t think Ben meant to play it that way. It just happened.’