‘None of this must be official,’ he finally said. ‘I mean it, Miss Clayburn, no payment, no paperwork … none of this has come from me, you understand?’

‘I understand.’

‘There is an unlicensed money lender in Crowley. A man known simply as “the Shank”.’

That sounded vaguely familiar to Lucy, but she couldn’t place it.

‘I have no knowledge of his real name,’ McGlaglen said. ‘But it seems that he was handled in the same rough way as Andrew Northwood. Whoever these villains are, they divested him of property, they savaged him …’

‘Did they kill him?’

‘I know only what I heard as I lay in that gutter. My assailants wanted information about …’ and he switched into broad Mancunian, ‘“them two blags … the one at Flash fucking Andy’s place, and the one on the Shank”.’

‘Where can I find this Shank?’ Lucy asked.

‘Thanks to your regular offices, I have never needed to avail myself of his services. Sadly, all that may now change.’

He huddled into his coat as wind hissed on the grey hummocks of the slag heaps. In the weak November light, he looked pale and wasted.

Clearly this was all he could, or was prepared, to tell her. Lucy decided there was no point dragging things out any further for either of them. At least she had something to go on.

‘You sure I can’t run you into town?’ she wondered.

McGlaglen chuckled. ‘Forgive me if the appeal of Crowley’s various watering holes is now somewhat tarnished in my eyes.’

She turned on her heel.

‘Miss Clayburn!’

She glanced back.

He regarded her with sudden curiosity. ‘These acts of charity you referred to … are they connected to these crimes?’

She shrugged. ‘How can I say? You know everything I know.’

‘You mention them in the same breath as this wave of attacks against the Crew’s interests … what else should I conclude?’

‘If I’d made the connection, myself, I wouldn’t be coming to you, would I?’

He didn’t bother to answer that. It wasn’t as if such information would be much use with his current problems. He’d previously managed to convince himself that his performance as an eccentric former actor, most often to be found wandering the town’s hostelries, would have somehow preserved him from scrutiny. Now he was probably wondering how long it had been since the genial façade had fooled anyone but himself.

Lucy walked back to her car and climbed in.