Otley’s piggy eyes were bloodshot and seemed smaller than ever. “Dunno, ma’am.” He was having difficulty looking his guv’nor in the face; he had just been telling everybody that their great witness had picked out a tax inspector who’d been hauled in off the street. They were all at it; every time she turned her back one of them would purse his lips and run his hands through his hair in imitation of Tennison on TV.

Three minutes later Jones arrived, belching from the Alka-Seltzer he’d just forced down himself. His head throbbed, his tongue felt like rubber and he looked very pale and shaky. Totally unsympathetic, Tennison told him not to bother sitting down, they were going out.

WPC Havers came rushing in. “The Super wants to see you, ma’am, right away.”

“Tell him you can’t find me.”

“Marlow’s lawyer’s with him, screaming about you giving details of the car last night. Marlow’s never reported it stolen.”

“Shit! Well, someone had better get it sorted, and before I get back. We all know how careless filing clerks can be, don’t we? The Vehicle Theft Report’s probably just been misfiled, hasn’t it, Burkin?”

The DI was standing in the center of the room, yawning. “We keeping you awake?” asked Tennison.

“Sorry, ma’am, got a bit of a headache.”

“I just hope you won.”

He started to nod but thought better of it. On top of his injuries, the bevvies he had consumed after the fight didn’t help.

“It was in a good cause, ma’am. I got him in the last round—at least, I think I did. Old Felix was virtually in the ring with me, he used to box for . . .”

Otley smirked. “Made a nice little packet for the Sheffords, at twenty-five quid a ticket.”

“Yes, I know. I bought four tickets myself, I’m just sorry I couldn’t be there.”

She jerked her head to Jones to follow her as she walked out. Otley pursed his lips; nobody had told him that split-arse had chipped in!

“It was George’s decision to give notice,” said Edward Harvey, George Marlow’s boss at the paint factory he represented. “He was getting a lot of stick from the others. I’d never have asked him to leave, he’s too good at his job, been with us ten years apart from the time he was in jail.”

“He told you all about that, did he?”

“Yes, came straight out with it. I know he was found guilty, but . . .”

“But . . . ?”

“Well, he was always a bit of a lad, popular with the girls. He swears he’s innocent, and I really can’t see why such an attractive bloke would go and do a thing like that. He was very distressed about it.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, Mr. Harvey. Now, could you show us around? If you have time.”

“My pleasure.”