“I’d be at home . . . Oh, hang on, earlier . . . I know what I did earlier.”

Shefford inhaled the last of his cigarette and let the smoke drift from his nostrils. “Well, want to tell me?”

With a rueful smile, Marlow shrugged his shoulders slightly. “I picked up a girl. She was on the game.”

“You knew the girl, did you?”

Marlow shook his head and glanced at Otley, who was sitting a few feet away taking notes. “I’d never met her before, but I saw her outside the tube station, Ladbroke Grove. She was, you know, bending down, peering into cars as they went past . . . Ladbroke Grove tube station. I pulled up and asked her how much.”

“But you didn’t know her?”

“No, I’d never met her before. I asked her first how much, and she said it depends. You know they like to hustle as much as they can out of you . . .”

“Oh, yeah? But you been done before, George. You don’t like hassles. Della Mornay pisses you off, right? Right?

Marlow frowned, then looked at Shefford. “Della Mornay . . . ?”

Otley checked his watch and wondered how it was all going down in the interview room. It was past seven and Shefford had been at it since four thirty, now with Arnold Upcher sitting in on the session. Otley strolled down to the basement corridor and peered through the glass panel; he could just see Marlow, sitting with his head in his hands.

“Has he confessed yet? Only it’s drinking time!”

The PC on guard raised his eyebrows. “Been a lot of shouting goin’ on in there, and at the last count Shefford had consumed five beakers of coffee.”

“Ah, well, he would—this is pub hours, son!”

Otley turned away and went to the pub to join the others from Shefford’s team. He ordered a round and sat down with his pint, telling them there was no news as yet.

“But he had his head in his hands, looked like the guv’nor’s cracked him. Gonna break that bloody record . . .”

They set about betting on how long it would take Shefford to get a confession from Marlow and whether or not he would break Paxman’s record. They might not have been so confident if they had been privy to the statement that was being taken from Marlow right then.

Chapter 2

2

Shefford was using the regulation tape recorder. Marlow craned his head forward and directed his speech at the built-in microphone.

“I dropped her off at the tube station, and paid her.”

“OK, so then what did you do?”

“I went to Kilburn to get a video, and I was home by . . . about ten thirty.”

Marlow rubbed his chin. He needed a shave now, the stubble made him look darker, swarthier.