Tucked at the back of one of his desk drawers was a half-bottle of whisky. He unscrewed the cap and offered it to Muddyman.

“Fuckin’ toms, I tell you, we had this Marlow done up, we’d have sent him down if it wasn’t for that bitch Tennison. Now we got to crawl through the gutters, makes me puke.”

“Maybe the one we found wasn’t a tom?”

“Bullshit! She was in Mornay’s flat, why else was she there, you tell me that? Don’t give me any crap because she was wearing designer knickers, I’ve had girls come in dripping with mink, wearing high-class gear, but they’re all the same, open the legs, drop in yer money!”

Muddyman thought it best to keep quiet as Otley was really sounding off. His face was twisted with anger and pent-up frustration.

“My wife, the most decent woman you could ever wish to meet, never done a bad thing in all her life, died of cancer, screamin’ in agony. She was goodness itself, and she was a bag of bones. These slags, tartin’ around, passing on filthy diseases . . . Why my wife? That’s what I ask myself over and over, why does a decent woman die like that and they get away with it?”

Wisely, Muddyman decided there was no answer to that. Instead, he enquired for the third time what they were going to do about the three girls and Michael Hardy.

“What d’you think, we keep them here until ma’am comes back. I get their statements, I can’t whip ’em over to the morgue, she’s got a family . . . We wait, but it’ll be worth it, because it’s all going down on my report sheet!”

“The canteen’s closed, Skipper, they’re in one of the interview rooms—not the one with the tarts. They’ve been here for hours, an’ I think Lillie’s taken a fancy to the tall blond one!”

Muddyman was referring to the youngest member of the team, DC Lillie, nicknamed Flower. He took the brunt of their wisecracks when Jones wasn’t around.

Otley sucked in his breath and prodded Muddyman’s chest. “I’m doin’ the report, an’ I know how long they’ve been here, OK? When the canteen reopens we’ll wheel ’em back up, an’ you tell Lillie no chattin’ up the blond Puss in Boots, savvy?”

Muddyman bristled. Sometimes Otley got right under his skin, seeming to forget who was the senior officer. But he replied, “I savvy, Sarge!”

In the mortuary, the wait for the body to be brought out seemed interminable, yet it was no more than a few minutes. The major stood in the small waiting room, tense and unspeaking.

After putting out a DO NOT DISTURB sign, Felix Norman opened the door of the waiting room and gestured to Tennison that everything was ready. He held the door open as Tennison led the major out, followed by Burkin. They formed a small group around the open drawer where Karen lay covered with a green sheet. Tennison looked at the major.