Then I saw the shape of Mrs Margaret Mallory coming down the hall, and the outline of her face through the frosted glass, and the start of her smile.

Chapter 35

35

SOHO WAS OUR canteen.

It meant that odd, unexpected couples were sometimes seen sharing a meal together in the backstreet restaurants.

PC Billy Greene and Dr Stephen were in a corner table of the Siam Café on Frith Street. Greene’s hands were no longer bandaged. He was in uniform. I was about to join them when I realised that this was not a chance encounter. This was therapy.

‘Please,’ Dr Stephen said. ‘Our fifty minutes are just about up. So you’re no longer suspended, Max?’

I shook my head. ‘One day you’re the cock of the walk and the next you’re a feather duster,’ I said. ‘Or is it the other way round?’

I joined them.

‘You found the missing girl,’ Dr Stephen said.

I nodded. ‘We just got the results of the forensic autopsy from Elsa Olsen. Identified her body from dental records sent over from Germany. Cause of death was a broken neck. Peregrine Waugh snapped Anya Bauer’s neck like she was some kind of wounded animal.’

‘And twenty years later,’ Greene said, ‘he opens up his veins.’

‘And gets off too lightly,’ I said. ‘I wanted to see him in court. I wanted to see him in a cell.’

We were silent until I nodded at Greene’s hands.

‘How are you doing, Billy?’

‘Doing good,’ he said. ‘The pain is easing off. The physio is coming along. My fingers are working better, although the right hand is still a bit stiff. The more exercises I do, the better I feel.’

The waitress brought a plate of fruit. I saw that Greene’s hands were stained black with burns, and that he held a fork with difficulty.

‘Stick with it, Billy,’ I said. ‘Stick with all of it.’

But he didn’t want my pity.

When a piece of mango slipped from his fork and slid across the table, he stabbed at it repeatedly until he finally speared it. He popped the mango in his mouth and laughed.

‘Lunch takes a bit longer,’ he said.

Dr Stephen stared at his plate and then back at Greene.

‘Funny thing is, they gave me sick leave,’ Greene said. ‘After the night we got Bob. And I went to Vegas – because I always fancied Vegas. So I flew to Vegas.’ He paused dramatically. ‘But they wouldn’t let me in!’

Dr Stephen had obviously heard the anecdote before. I had the impression that Greene had told the story many times, and that his fellow uniformed policemen had enjoyed the punchline. It was the kind of punchline that coppers would find amusing.‘They wouldn’t let you in?’ I said. ‘You mean, into the country? When you landed?’

He nodded, still looking cheery, still seeing the funny side and assuming that I would see it too.