He looked up. “D’you think there’s any truth in the story that she gave Marlow the come-on? She’s, what, thirty-eight now, and a spinster . . .”

Tennison bridled. “So am I, it doesn’t mean I want myself raped, and my front teeth kicked in!”

“Take it easy, it’s just that from the description she’s a bit of a dog. Marlow, on the other hand, is a goodlooking bloke, like myself.”

She replied with a laugh. “Be very careful, Sergeant, or you’ll be back rotting in Hornchurch!”

Two men were painting the row of garages on Marlow’s council estate. They were making quite a good job of it, considering neither of them had done much in that line before. A few yards away George Marlow was standing, hands in pockets, watching them.

One of the men went to his nearby van for a new tin of paint. He opened it and stirred it with a screwdriver, then wiped the blade on his already paint-covered overalls.

“Excuse me, are you going to be painting the whole block, or just the garages?” Marlow asked.

“Just this lot, far as we know, mate,” DC Lillie replied.

“They aren’t for residents, you know. Council rents them out to anyone who can afford them. The tenants have to park in the bay over there, known as Radio One . . .” He flashed a grin at Lillie. “Means you had one when you parked it!”

He waited for a response, which didn’t come, so he went on, “I had one, but it was nicked.”

“What, a radio?”

“My car. Rover Mark III, three-liter automatic. More’n twenty years old, collector’s item, you know.” He stared down into the tin of paint, then up at the garages.

Rosper joined in. “You leave it out? Bodywork must ’ave rusted up?”

Marlow touched the paint on the nearest garage door, then peered closer. “Had a bit of filler here and there. Suppose some kids nicked it for a joyride, be stripped down by now. Had all my emblems and badges on the front, RAC and AA, owner’s club . . . all on a chrome bar at the front.” He examined the paint again. “I’m in the paint business, typical of the council . . .” He put a hand out towards Rosper. “Can I just borrow your brush? Like to see how this goes on . . .”

He dipped the brush in the paint and applied a stroke as Rosper and Lillie exchanged glances behind his back. Totally unaware, he said, “You work out, do you?” He glanced round at Rosper. “You look as if you do. What gym do you use?”

He chatted on, painting the door, while they stood and watched.

Late in the afternoon, Tennison and Amson arrived at Brixton Prison to interview convict 56774, Reginald McKinney. While they waited for him to be brought to them, Amson explained that McKinney had shared a cell with Marlow in Durham and had been picked up again a few weeks ago for breaking and entering.