He sat at his desk and stared at the image of Bridgette’s hand, her fingers slim and pale, no nail varnish. She had just become his seventh contact on WhatsApp. Three of the other numbers were work-related. His brother Tony the fifth. Then there was a random message from an attractive young woman called Sonya, a smartphone scam from Russia, he’d been told, but for some reason he hadn’t deleted it. The final contact was his ex-wife Jackie, who had used WhatsApp a few times recently as their divorce was being finalized. Clipped and painfully cheerful messages to keep him up to date on the progress of various bits of paperwork and arrangements for the sale of the farmhouse in France. It had all been very efficient and cordial; her new partner had bought Joe’s share of the property, lock, stock and smoking Jackie.

As a summary of his recent life, the WhatsApp contact list was not what you’d call edifying. But it was accurate. Looking around the office he wondered who he’d like to add, and came up with a shortlist of zero.

‘Nearly four on a Saturday afternoon. No one’s there,’ Rita said, phone in hand. She screwed her mouth up, thought about it. ‘This sales director? I’m gonna sniff her out, give her a bell at home. You?’

‘Another chat with Jane Shaw. You fancy coming?’

‘Nah. I’ll make a start on the CCTV if you want. See you back here after you’ve ministered to the grieving mother.’

He stood up.

‘Just one thing. Gwyn Merchant and the one-sixty-six thing? You’ve heard that from him before?’

‘One per cent of the population is responsible for sixty-six per cent of all crimes committed. Yeah, he was always a bit of a hardliner, y’know…’

He waited. She let him wait. The little pauses didn’t work on her.

‘Well,’ he said in the end, ‘he’s clocked off for the day. That’s pretty clear.’

‘He’ll be around if you need him,’ she said. ‘He’s solid.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s all an act with Gwyn. He’s a pretty thoughtful lad, as it goes.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

‘And he’s not had an easy life. But who has, eh?’

‘Yep. Anyway, they’re getting the footage ready in the AV suite. I’ll join you in an hour or so.’

20

He drove past the Brick. There was a van outside, and someone was unloading a large Marshall speaker. A guitar case was leant up against the van, and next to it a microphone stand.

He’d played his fair share of gigs in pubs like this when he was young. The Romanos, they called themselves. Half the audience would come because they thought it was a Ramones tribute band. A few bars into the opening song and people would turn to each other, grimacing in confusion.