Lauren exhales loudly through her nose and leads them to a small untidy living room that smells of damp nappies. A television is showing a daytime talk show, which is running a segment on celebrity fitness DVDs. Lying at the foot of the TV stand on a blanket is a tiny baby, with a red-lined face and puffy eyes. It’s thin, ugly and reminds her of a tiny malnourished old man. Regardless of the baby’s visible emotional state there is a striking resemblance to Frank Kelly.

Lauren perches herself on the edge of the sofa and folds her arms. Quinn hovers by the television smiling down at the angry bawling child. The cries are putting Archer on edge, making her eager to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.

Quinn catches the mother’s gaze and nods at the child. ‘May I?’

Archer notices her expression softens at the Detective Sergeant.

‘I have some experience,’ he adds.

Lauren’s thin lips smile and she nods. Quinn dips down and scoops the baby up to his chest, cradling it like he has done it a hundred times before.

‘You must have your hands full,’ says Archer, in an effort to build a bridge.

Lauren’s eyes harden as she turns to Archer.

‘They wouldn’t be so full if Frank was ’ere.’

‘Lauren, we’d like to confirm Frank’s whereabouts. Specifically, over the past week.’

‘He’s been ’ere. With me and ’er,’ she interrupts, pointing to the baby whose temper has simmered down as she lies in the arms of a doting Quinn. ‘And I can prove it!’ She takes out her phone and begins showing Archer pictures of Kelly, Lauren and the child, in the living room, in the bed together, in a pub. There are dozens and she makes sure Archer sees the date stamps. This evidence might not be enough in court but for Archer it’s enough to plant a seed of doubt.

‘Is Frank living here?’

‘Yes.’

‘But he was living with Elaine and Jordan.’

Archer notices Lauren’s neck turning a shade of crimson.

‘He left her and came to live with me, didn’t he?’

‘When did he start living here?’

‘This month.’

‘Which date?’

Lauren tuts and exhales. ‘I dunno the exact date. It was the middle of the month sometime.’

Archer and Quinn exchange glances. It was around that time that Elaine went missing.

‘Thank you, Lauren.’

‘Is he coming home then?’

Archer ignores the question. ‘Do you mind me asking if the child is Frank’s?’

Lauren’s nostrils flare and her eyes widen. ‘Of course she is. I’m not a slag. Not like her.’

‘Like who?’

‘Elaine. Who’d you think? If she weren’t such a slag she wouldn’t have got herself killed.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘She was seeing someone else. That’s what I heard. Someone down the club.’

‘Infernos?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Do you know who?’