‘And if it’s denied?’ Crombie’s father asked.

‘He’ll be remanded in custody and a court date will be set.’

‘Charlie doesn’t deserve to be locked up, Chief Inspector,’ Arthur Crombie said. ‘What happened in Calais has sent him over the edge.’

‘He hasn’t had a night’s sleep since,’ his mother said.

The Crombies didn’t seem the sort of people who made excuses for their son, but it was Charlie’s second arrest in as many weeks and Bish didn’t want to promise them anything.

‘This judge is a decent man,’ Bish told them, ‘and can probably be swayed by an accused’s statement. So Charlie being personable and sincere may be the way to go. Have him talk about his trauma after the bombing.’

The Crombies exchanged a look. Personable and sincere didn’t seem to describe their son. They were led away by their harassed barrister and Bish moved into the courtroom with a handful of others. There he saw the Kenningtons. Crombie may have got away with breaking their son’s nose, but they were no doubt going to make sure he didn’t walk away from this one.

A short while later, Crombie was accompanied into the dock, where he stood looking as sullen as ever, his usual sour, pasty-faced self, dressed in skinny black jeans, white shirt, skinny tie and black jacket. The judge entered, his eyes sweeping the room and settling on Bish and then Elliot, who were sitting beside the Crombies.

Although it was only a bail hearing, Russell Gorman’s barrister was more interested in a character assassination. The cheating incident at Charlie’s previous school was rehashed. His sexual relationship with Violette LeBrac was brought up. The drinking, smoking, causing of public nuisance, breaking of curfew, and urinating in public fountains while on the tour were discussed in detail. Bish wondered if this had come from Rodney Kennington. Wasn’t it the rule that what happens on tour stays on tour? Kennington was a corporate whistle-blower in the making. Not a moral one, but one who’d do it out of spite, out of bitterness for not getting the promotion. Bish surreptitiously moved forward in his seat and poked Crombie’s barrister in the back. Say something, you stupid woman, he wanted to shout. This wasn’t a trial.

In the dock Crombie was staring from Kennington to Gorman, hatred in his expression. Bish could see that he was going to be the media’s next target.

‘You’re a strange one, Charlie,’ Judge Walsh said, looking far from impressed. ‘Decent people raising you, and you reward them with disgraceful behaviour. I think this court needs for you to start with an apology to Mr Gorman.’

Walsh was giving Charlie a chance to keep his record clean. The Crombies turned to Bish for confirmation and he nodded. It was now up to Charlie to impress Judge Walsh.

‘Mr Crombie?’ Walsh said. ‘We’re waiting.’

Rodney Kennington was leaning over and whispering something to his parents. They seemed amused by what he had to say. Suddenly Crombie leapt to his feet, throwing a punch at the glass wall before him. ‘Fuckers!’ he shouted.