‘On your honour?’ Lucy shook her head. ‘Your honour. Are you serious?’ She grabbed him by the collar, lugged him from the wall and threw him along the corridor with such force that he staggered and almost fell. ‘Get out of my sight, soft lad!’

He hurried off, walking stiffly without looking back.

‘I ever see you again,’ she shouted, ‘I’ll pop those zits with the dirtiest needle I can find!’

She was halfway back across the car park when her phone rang.

‘Lucy, it’s Malcolm’ came Peabody’s voice.

‘What’ve you got?’ she asked.

‘Naff all. I’ve door-to-doored all along Latham Street, Burton Avenue and Tulip Drive.’

Lucy was so distracted by events that, fleetingly, she had trouble placing those addresses.

‘Housing estate alongside the canal … remember?’ It would have been more helpful had he not sounded irritated with her. ‘Near the garages where Lorna Cunningham got nabbed.’

‘Okay, yeah.’

‘It’s the same as on the Hollinbrook. No one saw or heard anything.’

‘Good.’

‘Good?’

‘Yes, good. Because now I’ve got another job for you. You got wheels?’

‘I’m in my car, obviously.’

‘Meet me at the entrance to the Fairview landfill site.’

‘The landfill?’ She heard both surprise and disgust in his voice.

‘Yes.’ She climbed into her Jimny.

‘That’s half an hour from here. When do you want me?’

‘Now.’

Chapter 19

The Dead Man’s Hand was a pub on Halpin Road, a nine-mile section of dual carriageway running between Crowley and Urmston and comprising little more than petrol stations, car dealerships and container parks.

In many ways, the pub’s name and its sign – an Ace of Spades with a bullet hole in the middle – were the most interesting things about it. Aside from that, it was a plain, square, pebble-dashed structure, exuding zero charm. Inside, it was more like a working men’s club than a traditional pub, but a club that had seen better days. Aside from the entry corridor, where the toilets and fruit machines were, it was a single room, big but cluttered with tables and chairs, and with one long bar on the left-hand side. It had a small stage, complete with the obligatory strips of shiny material hanging down the back, but these were tawdry and dingy now, and no one could remember how long it was since anyone had performed there. It was a spacious enough interior, the big row of windows on the right allowing in lots of light, though they only looked down on the concrete steps leading up from the car park, which was almost always empty.