‘Ben, you know it’s mad,’ said Murfin fifteen minutes later. ‘They want to get rid of people like me using tenure, but at the same time they can’t get anybody else to come into CID. There’s no waiting list any more. When did we last have a new DC in this division?’

‘I can’t remember.’

They’d walked to Cooper’s local, the Hanging Gate, a pub sitting in its own little yard off High Street. At least Gavin had insisted on buying the drinks.

‘There are vacancies in every section station,’ said Murfin. ‘The only way we can get people into CID is if they transfer for the sake of promotion. They come straight in at senior level from uniform, and they have no idea what detective work is all about.’

‘Why don’t you take it up with the Federation?’ said Cooper.

‘Dogberry and his mates? What use are they?’

Cooper smiled at the reference to the Police Federation’s cartoon character. He knew Murfin was right, about some of it at least.

‘And that’s not to mention Dad’s Army,’ said Murfin. ‘Talk about short-term measures. The geriatric brigade won’t last for ever, and there’s no one to take their place. You can’t create an experienced detective out of thin air.’

Murfin drank silently for a while. ‘I was thinking about what you were saying, Ben. About Hell.’

‘It was nothing, Gavin.’

‘But it’s obvious, isn’t it? Hell is us. If there really is a Hell waiting for me when I kick the bucket, that’s what it’ll be. Just me. Me, messing myself up for the rest of eternity.’

Cooper stared at Murfin open-mouthed.

Murfin nodded. ‘You know, don’t you, Ben? Who needs a demon with a pitchfork, eh?’

‘Have you talked to Diane about how you feel?’

‘What? Why would I talk to her?’

‘She’s your DS.’

‘I’d rather talk to the Yorkshire Ripper. We’d have more empathy.’ Murfin suddenly looked tired. ‘Sorry, Ben. But sometimes I lose my sense of humour, like.’

‘I understand. Do you want another drink?’

But Murfin drained his glass. ‘No, thanks. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Ben. I’ll go home now.’

‘Will you be OK?’

‘I’m fine. Hey – what about that date of yours? What happened?’

‘I put it off. There’s too much happening this week.’

‘Pity. Won’t she mind?’

‘No,’ said Cooper. ‘She’ll understand.’