He didn’t seem to register what she had said. He began. “I was at home at ten thirty . . .”

“So, you arrived home at ten thirty that night. Could you tell us what time you next left the flat?”

“I didn’t, I watched television with my wife.”

“You are referring to your common-law wife, Miss Moyra Henson, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Henson made a statement at three forty-five this afternoon. She states that you actually left the flat again at fifteen minutes to eleven. She cannot recall exactly when you returned, but you returned without your car. She says that your car was not stolen from outside your block of flats.”

“She’s wrong! My car was nicked, I never went out again.”

“You have denied having any previous contact with Karen Howard.”

“Yeah, never met her before the night she picked me up . . .”

“Miss Henson has, on occasion, worked at a booth in Covent Garden. She has admitted that she met Karen, and that she gave her a nail treatment. You were there at the time and you spoke to Karen. Is that true?”

“No.” Marlow shook his head.

“You have also denied knowing the other victim, Deirdre Mornay, also known as Della. Miss Henson agrees, however, that contrary to her first statement, in which she too denied knowing Miss Mornay, she was in fact lying. I suggest that you are also lying and that you did know Della Mornay.”

Marlow sat back in his chair, folded his arms. “I don’t believe you play these games. Moyra is scared to death that you are going to arrest her for tax evasion and claiming unemployment benefit. She’s terrified of the police since she was picked up on a false charge of prostitution. Well, you don’t scare me, I’m innocent.” He spoke to Upcher. “I don’t have to answer any more questions, do I?”

The team were kicking their heels in the Incident Room. Jones asked generally, “How’s the guv’nor? She must be knackered.”

Burkin shook his head. “Taking a long time. After what we found in the lock-up, I don’t think he’d admit to knowing his own mother right now.”

Slumped in chairs, perched on desks, propped against walls, they waited.

Marlow was looking tired. “How many more times do I have to tell you?”

Tennison pressed on. “This morning?” she prompted.

“I told you, I got an anonymous call, I dunno who it was. He says to me that he knows where my car is, he’s seen it on the TV program, right? It’s been reported stolen, right?”

“What time was the call?”

“Oh, about ten . . . Anyway, he says he knows where the car is, at King’s Cross.”

“He told you that your car was in a lock-up at King’s Cross, yes? Did he give you the keys?” Marlow shrugged, and she went on, “Mr. Marlow, you were seen unlocking the door.”