‘Just that. She was stabbing us in the back so I should get the stuff and bring it to him. Then things would go on like before, but without her.’

‘Did he tell you to hurt her?’

‘Not in so many words, but she wasn’t going to just hand it all over tied up in a fucking ribbon, was she?’ Tibbot looked faintly disgusted. ‘Right, well, unless you want any more little stories?’

‘Go on, then, fuck off,’ Tibbot muttered to him.

Grest walked away, and we watched his back recede along the path. He had a rolling sort of gait now, casual, unconcerned.

‘Could you have tests done on her body?’ I asked after we had both sat, mulling over what Grest had told us.

‘Well, her blood and hair could be tested for chemical traces, but it’s a NatSec case, so I can’t touch it. And, even if I could, we don’t know what they should be looking for – they can’t test for every drug known to man.’

‘She’s being cremated tomorrow. After that, we’ll never know.’ I stared at the monument to the Soviet sailors who had died in the battle for London. Their names were carved into the mottled marble block shaped like a cruiser. Someone had laid fresh red flowers on it – Pioneers, perhaps, or one of the Soviet guest regiments.

‘My guv’nor called me in for a word this morning,’ Tibbot said after a while. ‘NatSec’s been on to him.’

I understood what he was getting at. ‘You think you’ll be out?’

‘The station’s getting a political officer from next week. I know who it is. He’s not a pal. So it’s for the best if I toddle off, probably – well, retirement wasn’t far off anyway. And that’s that.’

I had the impression it was more of a blow than he was letting on. The police, after all, had been his life. ‘What will you do with your time?’ I asked.

‘Fishing. Lots of fishing.’

‘That’s your hobby, is it?’

‘No idea.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Haven’t tried it yet.’

‘Never?’

‘How hard can it be? Sit by a river. Pole. Bit of string. Worm.’ I smiled. After a moment he spoke again. ‘Jane, it looks like your husband has some responsibility for Lorelei’s death. He sent Grest to her and that led to her drowning. But there’s no real evidence that he drugged her.’ He pointed to Grest’s retreating back. ‘Whatever he thinks or says – it can’t be trusted.’

‘But you think he’s telling the truth, don’t you?’

He looked pained. ‘Yes,’ he said after a while.

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