‘We just need a few words, that’s all,’ Stacey said, smiling.

‘I said he ain’t here.’

‘Then do you know where he is? It’s quite important, Mrs Jones. We think someone’s looking to get Reginald blamed for something he didn’t do, so we just want to prove it wasn’t him. A few words and we can put him in the clear.’

‘Coppers don’t help the likes of us, certainly not my Reginald. You lot have been hounding him all his life, so don’t come to me with your “proving it isn’t him” bullshit.’

‘True, we’ve felt his collar at times, but he shouldn’t be shinning up people’s drainpipes and getting in their houses, should he? Look, we know he’s not a thief. All we want is to know where he was on a certain day at a certain time so we can put him in the clear. Otherwise he’ll be done for burglary, and you know what that means.’

The old woman pulled the door to and they heard a whispered conversation. The door opened again, and Ratty Jones stepped out. ‘I ain’t no tea leaf, PC Smith. You know that. You know what I do, but I never stole nothing when I got in them houses.’

‘Yes, I know you didn’t. But there’s someone doing the same as you now, and they are stealing things,’ said Stacey.

Like clouds across the sky, Ratty’s expression passed from anger to fear. ‘I know. But before you ask, I dunno who it is. I swear.’

‘What do you mean, you know, Reginald?’ asked Jay.

Ratty gave him a startled look. ‘Night before last I went out to a nice little cottage I had lined up for a visit. I saw him when I was walking down one of the lanes along the back of the houses. He was going into this house, straight through a top-opening window. Thought I was seeing things. He went up like greased lightning.’

‘Where was this house?’ asked Stacey.

Ratty described the location.

‘That’s where PC Laker saw the footprint on the bed,’ Jay muttered.

‘Hmm,’ Stacey said. ‘Pity. That doesn’t give you an alibi, all it does is put you right in the vicinity of the theft. So, how about last night? Where were you from around eleven p.m. onwards?’

‘Right here, playing cards with Harry Moore — he’s the caretaker of this dump — and a bloke called Keith who lives two vans up, and my mum.’ He pointed his thumb backwards over his shoulder. ‘Ask her. She won.’

‘What did you play?’ asked Stacey.

‘Seven-card stud. Ma’s a class act. Dunno why we let her play. She always cleans us out.’

Stacey knew when a man like Ratty was lying. It seemed he had an alibi for last night, after all.

‘Why aren’t you at home, Reginald?’ asked Jay politely. ‘How come you’re here?’

‘Ma’s sprained her ankle. Went to hospital, she did, and it’s all strapped up. I’m looking after her for a few days.’ He pushed the door wider. ‘Look.’