Ben Garvald lay on his back in the mud, one leg twisted underneath him, right arm outstretched, fingers curling slightly. The eyes were wide open, fixed on a point in eternity a million light years away, and there was a slight, bewildered smile on his mouth as if he couldn’t quite believe in what was happening to him. It was almost as if he might scramble to his feet at any moment, but that wasn’t possible because of the ragged hole in the neck just beneath his chin and the bloodsoaked rent in his raincoat below the left breast where the second bullet had emerged.

Nick stared down at the body, hands in pockets, dark eyes brooding in the white face. Six or seven hours since he’d heard Ben Garvald’s name for the first time. Since then, a composite picture of the man had emerged from records, at first shadowy and insubstantial, flesh growing on the bones as people who had known him had their say and finally, ten minutes’ conversation face to face.

And in the end, he’d known Ben Garvald better than any of them. Did this explain the strange sense of personal loss he now felt as he looked down at the body below?

‘He doesn’t look too good, does he?’ Grant commented.

Nick shook his head. ‘I don’t know what happened, but he deserved better than this.’

Grant stared at him curiously, then turned to Wade who was pulling on a pair of gumboots. ‘Going down now, Henry?’

‘In a minute. You want the lot, do you?’

‘Every damn thing in the book. Casts of any footprints, just in case the killer went down to make sure he was dead, and photograph everything in sight. And don’t forget Miller’s car.’ He turned to Nick. ‘Sorry about that, but you’ll have to leave it.’

As Wade went over the edge of the pier to the mudbank, Grant beckoned to the young constable who had been standing patiently by the van, his cap streaming with the heavy rain.

‘Johnson, sir, 802. Central Division.’

‘You’re the lad who found him, eh?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘Let’s have it then.’

‘I got the nod about Detective Sergeant Miller’s car when I made a point with my sergeant at three-thirty, sir. It was exactly four-fifteen when I came across it.’

‘Did you examine it at all?’

‘Only to try the doors, sir. They were locked.’

‘So you decided to have a look inside?’

‘It seemed the logical place and the judas gate was unlocked. I thought whoever it was might still be around so I took a walk along the wharf and checked the doors. I was just going to turn back when my torch picked out the smashed railing.’

Grant glanced at the mud encrusted leggings. ‘I see you went down to him.’