Outside, she found him seated under the shelter of the turning circle that marked the local bus terminus. Uninvited, she sat next to him.

‘Christ, woman.’ But he sounded tired rather than angry. ‘What in hell do you want?’

‘Relax, Jerry, okay? No one on this manor knows I’m a copper. Course, if you keep acting like someone’s jammed a garden rake up your arse, they’ll probably put two and two together.’

He tried to stand up and walk away again. But instead, he gave a gasp of pain and was forced to sit back down. As well as the bruising around his eye and the limp he’d tried to hide, Lucy noticed that a grubby bandage, rather amateurishly applied, swathed his left wrist.

‘What happened to you?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘Several … shall we say, troubled individuals happened to be waiting for me outside a hostelry in the centre of town the other night. They gave me … I understand the appropriate phrase is “a going-over”, calling me a “nonce” and a “poofter” as they did so.’

‘Are you saying it was a hate crime? If so, I can take the report now. We’ll investigate.’

‘It was not a hate crime, Miss Clayburn, because I am well-known around Crowley as being neither of those things.’

‘So … it was really about your grassing, yeah?’

A car drove past, and he furtively covered his face. ‘There are some who know what I do. Perhaps that is inevitable. Until now, it has never had consequences for me. They use me … much as you do. But now …’ he narrowed his eyes, squinting into a distinctly unpromising future, ‘something has changed.’

‘Did these scumbags say anything else?’ Lucy asked. ‘Apart from the name-calling.’

‘They required information. About several recent incidents.’

‘And?’

‘I gave them nothing because I knew nothing. I had no clue what they were talking about.’

‘What were the incidents?’

‘I honestly can’t remember. I was, of course, distracted at the time.’

‘Well … if you don’t know anything about any recent or upcoming crimes, do you know anything about donations to charity? Big ones.’

Even McGlaglen, whose poker face was one of the best, glanced curiously round at her.

‘Believe it or not, someone’s been making charitable donations all around town,’ she said. ‘And I mean massive. We’re talking thousands of quid.’

He gazed at her long and hard. ‘Miss Clayburn, I sincerely hope you have not endangered my covert status to ask questions like this? When am I supposed to have become associated with the inner workings of charitable institutions?’

‘I strongly suspect the money’s stolen.’

‘Ahhh … well in that case, things are somewhat easier. The felon responsible goes around town in a green hood and carries a bow and arrow. He has a big man with him too. Oh, and a fat monk.’