The trip to Balfour’s Bank … she wondered if that had been a waste of time too. Ranald Marr and his little soldiers … the tip-off coming from David Costello … the broken playing piece in Costello’s flat. She wondered if Costello had been trying to tell her something about Marr. She couldn’t think what. Skulking at the back of her mind was the possibility that this whole exercise was a waste of time, that Quizmaster really was playing with them, that the game had nothing to do with Flip’s disappearance … Maybe that drink with the girls wasn’t such a bad idea … When her phone went, she snatched at it.

‘DC Clarke, CID,’ she recited into the mouthpiece.

‘DC Clarke, it’s the front desk. Got someone down here wants a word.’

‘Who is it?’

‘A Mr Gandalf.’ The speaker’s voice dropped. ‘Weird-looking bugger, like he got sunstroke in the Summer of Love and hasn’t been right since …’

Siobhan went downstairs. Gandalf was holding a dark brown fedora, stroking the multicoloured feather attached to its headband. He wore a brown leather waistcoat over the same Grateful Dead T-shirt he’d worn in his shop. The pale blue cords had seen better days, as had the sand-shoes on his feet.

‘Hi there,’ Siobhan said.

His eyes widened as though he didn’t quite recognise her.

‘It’s Siobhan Clarke,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘We met at your shop.’

‘Yes, yes,’ he mumbled. He stared at her hand but didn’t seem inclined to shake it, so Siobhan lowered her arm.

‘What brings you here, Gandalf ?’

‘I said I’d see what I could find about Quizmaster.’

‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Would you like to come upstairs? I could probably rustle us up a cup of coffee.’

He stared at the door she’d just come through, and slowly shook his head. ‘Don’t like police stations,’ he said gravely. ‘They give off a bad vibe.’

‘I’m sure they do,’ Siobhan agreed. ‘You’d rather talk outside?’ She looked out at the street. Still rush hour, the traffic nose to tail.

‘There’s a shop round the corner, run by some people I know …’

‘Good vibes?’ Siobhan guessed.

‘Excellent,’ Gandalf said, his voice animated for the first time.

‘Won’t it be shut?’

He shook his head. ‘They’re still open. I checked.’

‘All right then, just give me a minute.’ Siobhan walked over to the desk, where a shirtsleeved officer was watching from behind a glass shield. ‘Can you buzz upstairs to DC Hood, tell him I’ll be back in ten?’

The officer nodded.

‘Come on then,’ Siobhan told Gandalf. ‘What’s the shop called anyway?’

‘Out of the Nomad’s Tent.’