Rosper laughed and she nailed him. “Two! Come on, undercover’s a piece of cake. Two more . . .”

She handed Rosper a twenty and sent him to the bar. “Let’s get those drinks in. I’ll have a large G and T.”

Lillie pulled out a chair for her. “How did it go, boss?”

The others pretended not to listen. Tennison said quietly, “If I don’t pull something out of the bag very soon, I’m off the case.”

Her gin and tonic arrived. She thanked Rosper and he handed her back her money.

“What’s this?”

Rosper shrugged. “It’s OK, Skipper coughed up.”

“Is this a truce? Ah well, cheers!” She raised her glass to them, but Muddyman and Rosper were looking towards Otley, who was sitting at the bar.

“Cheers, Skipper!” Muddyman called.

Otley turned and grinned, as if he had got one over on Tennison, even in the pub.

With a few drinks inside them they returned to the Incident Room to work. The stacks of paperwork did not seem to have diminished much, despite the busy atmosphere. The room was thick with tobacco smoke and littered with used plastic cups. Tennison, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, was double-checking and collating results.

At nine o’clock, Muddyman stood up and announced that he was going home. Many of the others started to make a move and Otley approached Tennison.

“We’ve got several cases that need looking into: one at Oldham, another at Southport, an’ we’re checking one in Warrington. Ma’am . . . ?”

Tennison looked up. “Sorry.”

“Who do you want checking these unsolved cases?”

“Oh, anyone who’s been cooped up here all day, give them a break.”

“OK,” Otley muttered. He made a few notes on a pad. “I’ll do the Oldham . . . Muddyman, Rosper and Lillie are on Marlow, so that leaves . . . Can you take the Southport case?”

“OK, just pin it up for me.”

Otley put the list up on the notice-board and picked up his coat. As he left he passed WPC Havers.

“You’ll be able to retire on your overtime, gel!”

“Night, Sarge!” she replied as she passed some telephone messages to Tennison. “Why don’t you take a break, boss?”

“Because I’ve got more to lose, Maureen.” She rose and stretched, yawning, then went to examine the list on the notice-board. “I’ve lost track,” she sighed.

Only three of the men were left working. “Go on home, you lot,” she told them. “Recharge your batteries.”

DC Caplan put his coat on and asked, “Anyone for a drink?”

I’ve had enough liquid for one day, mate,” replied Jones. I’ll be bumping into the mother-in-law in the night, she spends more time in the lavvy than a plumber . . .”