The boss of bosses allowed her to hug him one more time, before disentangling himself and padding away through the crowd, finally taking up a place close to the buffet table, where Frank McCracken and his own personal sidekick, the six-foot-nine mountain of brawn and brutality called Mick Shallicker, unobtrusively nibbled on cheese sandwiches.

‘I take it the little bastard didn’t die owing us anything?’ Pentecost asked quietly.

McCracken shook his head. ‘His bills were all straight … for once.’

They stood in silence, nodding at the occasional greeting thrown their way from the ever-expanding crowd.

‘So, what do we know?’ Pentecost asked from the side of his mouth.

‘What are we supposed to know?’ McCracken replied.

‘Flash Andy might not have died owing us,’ Pentecost said. ‘But we earned from him all the same. At least, we used to. And now we don’t … and that’s not very satisfactory, is it? Especially as I’m now hearing whispers that there’s been more than one incident like this.’

‘We’re hearing those whispers too, Bill.’

‘We need to focus on Flash Andy first. But it may also pay to start asking questions a bit further afield, assuming these incidents are connected.’

‘I’ve put some feelers out,’ McCracken said. ‘But no one has a clue at this stage.’

Pentecost shook his head as a slim, black-clad waitress offered him a glass of sparkling wine from a tray. When another member of staff chanced by with goblets of still orange, he took one of those.

‘I’m not sure that’s good enough, Frank.’ Pentecost still spoke in that drawling, menacing monotone, which routinely flummoxed anyone who was trying to work out his mood. ‘I don’t know whether this was personal or just business. And when I don’t know things, it gets on my wick. I’m aware this doesn’t fall strictly within your remit – Benny B’s on the job too. But you’ve got a whole network of people out there who keep their ears to the ground for this sort of thing. As such, I find it hard to believe that any kind of blag – particularly a blag like this, with automatic shooters – could’ve escaped their attention, or the attention of anyone they might know.’

‘If you want my honest view, Bill,’ McCracken said, ‘I’m not sure Benny B’s solution is helping us much.’