Some calming down was in order before I faced the walking abrasion that was Terry Bennett. I didn’t want to fly off the handle at him because I was pissed off with the boss. Fortunately for me, the equivalent of Valium on four legs was corralled just around the corner. ‘Hello Cassie,’ I said quietly to the forlorn-looking elephant.

I climbed up the metal steps to the booking trailer. A middle-aged, twinset-clad, bespectacled lady greeted me from behind the security grille window. A less circus-like woman I could hardly imagine. ‘Detective Constable Shephard. I’m here to see Mr Bennett.’

‘I’ll text him to let him know you’re here; won’t be a minute.’ She may have looked all steamed pudding and knitting, but her voice had a gravelly steel to it.

The circus was a damned sight more peaceful than the last time I visited. The absence of protesters had a lot to do with that. The only visible activity in the midday light was someone walking purposefully towards one of the trailer homes. Judging by the general desertion, it must have been lunchtime for the troops. And in spite of myself, I found I was impressed at the size and number of their mobile living quarters. There was an orderly line-up of eight along this perimeter of the circus town and more around the corner. There were all the typical trappings of family life with bikes and trikes discarded in front of doors, as casually as you’d expect to see littering the driveways of suburbia. One nearby trailer even had one of those big half-shell plastic things with a bit of sand in the bottom and a colourful collection of plastic buckets and spades. And clothes airers were laden with all manner of washing, making the most of the return of the sunshine and a pleasant sea breeze while it lasted. I smiled at the normality of it all. Not even the glamour of the circus could escape the drudge of doing the laundry.

The door opened on the deluxe trailer at the front of the queue and the sizable form of Terry Bennett appeared. The whole thing listed to the right as he walked out on to the step. ‘Don’t they give you a lunch break?’ he called out.

Judging by the dusting of crumbs on his chest and belly, he’d just consumed his.

‘No time for anything as unimportant as food,’ I answered. ‘Things to do, places to go, people to see. You know how it is.’

‘I hope you’re here to tell me you’ve caught the little shits that had a go at my lion and have them safely locked away. They’ll be a damned sight better off with you guys than if I ever got my hands on the bastards.’

I didn’t doubt it for a second.