Tennison couldn’t keep quiet. “Just as you knew nothing about his relationship with Della Mornay? Bullshit! You knew, and you’ve been covering up for him . . .”

Kernan gave her the eye to shut up and keep it shut. “Did you get anything from your trip to Southport, Bill?”

Otley shook his head. “We’re still checking, but no.”

Kernan nodded, then gave him a hard look. “Well, keep at it. You can go.”

Otley hesitated. It was obvious that Kernan wanted him out of the office and wanted Tennison to stay. With an embarrassed cough, he turned to her.

“Maybe we got off to a bad start,” he said quietly. “Should have taken a few weeks off after John . . .”

She gave him a rueful nod. “I’ll be in the Incident Room,” he said, and opened the door.

They waited until he had gone, then Kernan turned to Tennison and asked, “What do you want to do?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “I worked with a good bloke, in Hornchurch. Detective Sergeant Amson.”

Finally Kernan nodded. “That’s the deal, is it?”

“He’s available, could be here in an hour or so. I’m going to drive up to Rochdale to see the woman Marlow attacked there. It would be a good opportunity to fill him in on the investigation.”

Kernan nodded again. Knowing she had won, Tennison went on, “Marlow served eighteen months. All the cases were either before or after he was in jail. I want the surveillance put back on him.”

“OK. I’ll do my best to hold Hicock off.”

“Thank you, sir. Detective Sergeant Amson.”

“I got it the first time.”

At ten Tennison was in the car park, getting some things from her boot, when Otley came up beside her.

“I reckon we got off on the wrong foot. I was just going back to the pub, wondered if you wanted a drink?”

“Has the Super not spoken to you?”

“No, I went out and put a couple under my belt. I didn’t know about John’s spot of trouble in Oldham . . .”

Tennison said quietly, “Yes, you did. You’re off the case, Bill. I’m sorry, you’ve already been replaced.”

Otley seemed to shrink before her eyes. He turned to go and she said to his back, “I want the names of every officer on my team who’s taking sexual favors from prostitutes.”

He faced her again, but he had no anger left in him. She gave him a small nod and walked towards a car that had just drawn in to the car park. It was driven by the burly new sergeant, Terry Amson. He got out and opened the passenger door for her.

“I owe you a big one. My arse was dropping off in Hornchurch, I was sitting on it so much. How are you dong?

She beamed and punched his arm as she climbed in. “I think I’m doing OK.”