‘I’m sorry, Miss Suskind,’ says Archer. ‘We will do whatever we can to find him.’

Archer and Quinn exit the campaign headquarters and walk back to the car.

‘Odd that Davis never mentioned anything about Faulkner’s drugs or estrangement from the party,’ says Quinn.

‘Say nothing and protect the party at any cost.’

‘Politicians like to keep their dirty secrets under wraps.’

Quinn unlocks the car and they both climb inside.

‘Could you call Hicks and put him on speaker?’ asks Archer.

‘Sure.’

After three rings, Hicks picks up. ‘Quinn. What’s up?’

‘What’s the craic, Rodders?’

‘I told you not to call me that!’

Quinn smiles. ‘DI Archer would like a word.’

‘DI Hicks, this is Grace Archer.’

Archer hears him muttering something before he politely asks, ‘How can I help you, DI Archer?’

‘How did the interview with Faulkner’s ex-wife go?’

Hicks clears his throat before answering. ‘She was very obliging. “A selfish, cheating toe rag wanker” I believe were the words she used. I think DS Felton would agree with me.’ A pause for confirmation. ‘He’s nodding.’

Archer looks to Quinn, who rolls his eyes.

‘She said he did knock her about a bit. It became the norm until one day while they were doing the business, he gripped her neck and started strangling her. She blew her top and he told her to calm down and that she would have a better orgasm and that everyone was doing it that way, even celebrities. That was the final straw for her. Poor cow.’

Archer bristles at Hicks’s ‘cow’ comment.

‘That was pretty much it.’

‘Thank you, DI Hicks. Please could you put everything into finding Lewis Faulkner. Ask Klara to help you.’

‘Sure. I’ll pop over and see him now. Anything else?’

Archer frowns. ‘Have some respect, DI Hicks. Klara is here to help us. Not to put up with your petty bigotry.’

‘Slip o’ the tongue, DI Archer. You know how it is.’ Hicks hangs up.

‘Asshole,’ says Quinn.

‘That’s putting it mildly.’

They sit in silence for a moment before Quinn says, ‘This really doesn’t look good for Faulkner.’

Archer stares out the window at the passing traffic. ‘No, it doesn’t. We’ll need to get his ex-wife in to make a statement.’

‘I’ll talk to Rodders about that,’ replies Quinn. ‘Where next?’

‘I need to get a replacement phone. Could you drop me close to Covent Garden?’

Chapter 24

24

BACK IN ITS DAY, THE immense Grade II-listed Victorian building that is Covent Garden’s Apple Store was probably the private residence of a duchess, a marquess, perhaps a surgeon or an artist, or so Archer likes to think. Although still grand and impressive it just feels wrong that it is now a large American tech store. Some would call that progress, she supposes.