He fetched his laptop and found the page. A newspaper’s website.

BOB THE BUTCHER STALKS SCARED CITY BOYS

by Scarlet Bush

Crime correspondent

Champagne-swilling City boys are living in mortal terror after a senior detective revealed that the death of investment banker Hugo Buck was a hate crime.

‘Yes, Bob the Butcher murdering that innocent young banker was a hate crime,’ confirmed Detective Constable Max Wolfe. ‘But then all murder is a hate crime.’

In the bars all over the financial district, high-flying young City boys busy blowing their bonuses are now living in abject terror of Bob the Butcher.

‘It’s terrible to think that Bob the Butcher is targeting bankers,’ said Bruno Mancini in fashionable Cheapside watering hole The Lucky Cripple. ‘What’s wrong with being rich? We work hard for our success.’

I cursed under my breath. ‘I didn’t say any of that,’ I said, then glanced at the piece again. ‘Well, maybe just a bit of it.’

There was a small photograph next to the article. It was the young woman outside the flat in Regent’s Park. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but I knew it wasn’t good. The one good thing was that she had not connected the murder of Hugo Buck with the unknown man in the alley. But it was the only good thing.

I carried on walking between the tables, somehow knowing that the knife I was looking for would not be found here.

‘Thanks for your help, Billy. I’m sorry they took you off the street.’

He brightened. ‘It’s actually not so bad. I like the nights. And you get a sense of the history down here. Have you got a minute? Have a look at this.’

Greene opened the door to a storage room. It was as small and cluttered as an attic that had been abandoned around the time the Beatles were playing on a rooftop at the other end of Savile Row.

‘It’s full of stuff that nobody knows what to do with,’ Greene said. ‘It’s not evidence so they can’t bag it. It’s not junk so they can’t chuck it out. And it’s not important enough to be in a museum. I think they’ve all just forgotten about it. Have a look, DC Wolfe.’