Then Claire Bingham felt powerless and resentful. The case had been taken from her and was being run by Wargan and his friends in the serious crime squad in Bristol. While it had been considered an accident, even a domestic murder, she had been allowed to handle it. Now she was being told that she had no further part in it. Wargan began an intolerably chummy phone call to a colleague in Bristol and waved his subordinates away.

Even Berry seemed to think that her opinion no longer counted for anything. When she took him into her office and tried to explain why she thought Rosco was innocent, he listened politely but made it clear that he was unconvinced. It seemed farfetched, he said. He couldn’t believe it of a person like that. He, too, had been seduced by the influence of the city policemen, with their advanced technology, and by the very scale of Barnes’ crime. He preferred Wargan’s explanation—it was more exciting—and he refused to look at the facts.

She told no one at Heanor police station of the details of Molly’s theory. She would have felt foolish persisting against such opposition. But she would take great delight in seeing Wargan proved wrong. Instead, she went home to Richard and talked to him.

The first indication that things were wrong was Vicky Jones’ disappearance, but in the beginning Brian Barnes was not too concerned about that. An enquiry agent had been snooping around Rashwood Hall asking questions, and Vicky had agreed to talk to him. Naturally she was frightened. Later Barnes found out that she had been living with Greg Franks, and when the relationship became known to him, he was furious. He vowed never to trust a woman again.

Then there were more disturbing signs of a lack of confidence. He had arranged to meet the deputy chief constable at Rashwood Hall for lunch, but when he arrived at his office, there was a hasty message on his answering machine cancelling the appointment. There was no apology or explanation.

The rumours were whispered in person and over the telephone from early morning. They were passed on by employees hoping for money and by businessmen wanting to extricate themselves from new contracts. Rolfe had worked quickly.

“I hear that the case of the fire at Sinclair’s yard has been reopened,” they said. “ Rosco’s prepared to talk. He’s involved with the death of that lad in Cornwall, and he’s done a deal with the police.”

The informants were frightened because they knew that they would be affected by Barnes’ downfall, but they were pleased, too. No one liked him. He had too much money and too much power. They exaggerated and strengthened the rumours so Rosco became a key witness, essential to the police’s case. It was all over for Barnes, they implied. Rosco had done for him.