Lindsay repeated the process to three other papers, then put the phone down. “Bet you think I’m a real shit, don’t you?”

Cordelia looked at her. “I couldn’t have done what you’ve just done.”

Lindsay shrugged, her face a mask. “It’s a way of dealing with what’s happened. A way of hiding, a way of postponing.”

“It’s your job, Lindsay. You chose it. I certainly couldn’t have. However you cut it, what it comes down to is you doing your job. If you didn’t go about it in a cold-blooded way, I suppose you’d be no use to your bosses.” There was no approval in Cordelia’s voice, only coldness.

Before Lindsay could reply, the door opened and Inspector Dart came in, followed by the young detective Lindsay had seen with him before. He looked grim, his lean face set in hard lines. He walked over to Paddy’s desk and sat down behind it. The young detective sat down on a straight-backed chair near the door and took out his notebook. Dart said nothing, but continued to glance from Lindsay to Cordelia and back again. Lindsay felt extremely exposed.

Finally he broke the silence. He spoke slowly and his deep voice had become a growl. “I hate bloody waste,” he said. “And I hate bloody pillocks who fall for the line spun by the media: that the police are not only woodentops but also corrupt and vicious. You know why I hate them? Because they think they know better than we do how to catch criminals. Usually, they never get the chance to put their crass little theories into practice. Just as well, wouldn’t you say, on the evidence of today?”

Lindsay said nothing. She felt she deserved most of what was coming, and she resolved to bite on the bullet and not let this man see how upset she actually was.

“I’ve got what seems to be a confession here. A confession to a murder for which I already have someone in custody. The note mentions you, Miss Gordon, a couple of times. I also have a note found in the girl’s waste-paper bin, which seems to be a phone message saying you intended to call on her after seeing Miss Callaghan. All this suggests to me that you’ve been pissing about with things which are none of your bloody business. Am I right?”

Lindsay shrugged. He looked expectantly at her, but when he saw there was nothing more forthcoming, he went on. “I’ve one or two questions arising from the confession. You have read it, I take it?”

Lindsay nodded. “I have, but Miss Brown hasn’t.”

“For your sake, I hope I’m not going to find your fingerprints all over it. Quote: ‘I know they were messing about with scaffolding this morning.“ Unquote. Now, I want the explanation, please.”