‘No you didn’t,’ said Strike – finally, when he least expected it, losing his temper. ‘You based your whole case on one almighty fuck-up. If you’d taken Tansy Bestigui seriously, if you’d broken her down and got her to tell you the whole fucking truth, Rochelle Onifade would still be alive.’

Pulsating with rage, Carver kept Strike there for another hour. His last act of contempt was to tell Wardle to make sure he saw ‘Rokeby Junior’ firmly off the premises.

Wardle walked Strike to the front door, not speaking.

‘I need you to do something,’ said Strike, halting at the exit, beyond which they could see the darkening sky.

‘You’ve had enough from me already, mate,’ said Wardle, with a wry smile. ‘I’m gonna be dealing with that,’ he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards Carver and his temper, ‘for days because of you. I told you it was suicide.’

‘Wardle, unless someone brings the fucker in, there are two more people in danger of being knocked off.’

‘Strike…’

‘What if I bring you proof that Tansy Bestigui wasn’t in her flat at all when Lula fell? That she was somewhere she could have heard everything?’

Wardle looked up towards the ceiling, and closed his eyes momentarily.

‘If you’ve got proof…’

‘I haven’t, but I will have in the next couple of days.’

Two men walked past them, talking, laughing. Wardle shook his head, looking exasperated, and yet he did not turn away.

‘If you want something from the police, call Anstis. He’s the one who owes you.’

‘Anstis can’t do this for me. I need you to call Deeby Macc.’

‘What the fuck?’

‘You heard me. He’s not going to take my calls, is he? But he’ll speak to you; you’ve got the authority, and it sounds as though he liked you.’

‘You’re telling me Deeby Macc knows where Tansy Bestigui was when Lula Landry died?’

‘No, of course he bloody doesn’t, he was in Barrack. I want to know what clothes he got sent on from Kentigern Gardens to Claridges. Specifically, what stuff he got from Guy Somé.’

Strike did not pronounce the name Ghee for Wardle.

‘You want… why?’

‘Because one of the runners on that CCTV footage was wearing one of Deeby’s sweatshirts.’

Wardle’s expression, arrested for a moment, relapsed into exasperation.

‘You see that stuff everywhere,’ he said after a moment or two. ‘That GS stuff. Shell suits. Trackies.’

‘This was a customised hoodie, there was only one of them in the world. Call Deeby, and ask him what he got from Somé. That’s all I need. Whose side d’you want to be on if it turns out I’m right, Wardle?’

‘Don’t threaten me, Strike…’