‘Been back down at the university. Professor Simpson was lecturing this morning, so I couldn’t follow up on the little inconsistencies of accounts between him and Dr Hawkins and Dr Collins. That whole thing sounds so much like tit for tat. I’ve come to the conclusion the university is just a more articulate version of a primary-school playground, except the school kids are better behaved.’ Academics weren’t Smithy’s thing; he seemed to have an innate distrust of anyone who used their brain for a living, which was amusing really, when you considered detective work was precisely that, and that Smithy possessed a damned good one. ‘We were working our way through Rosie’s colleagues and the students she tutored. Nothing surprising so far, other than the usual ‘she was so nice, she worked hard’ etcetera, etcetera. Tell you what though. They all look so damned young. It made me feel geriatric.’

‘You are. They probably think you’re their parents’ vintage, and they wouldn’t be too far off the mark.’ Smithy had a lovely wife, Veronica, and two young kids. He was a bit of an older dad, having not found his true love until his forties.

‘Yeah, thanks for that, like I needed reminding.’ He gave me a pretend clip around the ear. ‘Anyway, how did you get on with the charming Mr Bennett?’

‘Exactly as you’d expect. I got nowhere. He was a bit miffed by the insinuation they could be a pack of criminals. He just couldn’t see how anyone would get that impression.’

‘I think that man’s policy is to take offence at everything. He’s so damned overreactive. No wonder the media love following him around, he’s perfect camera fodder.’

‘You got that right. He’s a consummate performer with a well-rehearsed line for any occasion. He’s a bit like my old dog – any attention’s good attention for him.’ I was pleased Smithy read Terry Bennett the same way I did.

‘I see you’ve got a couple of those posters; can I grab one for the kids? Katie would love that in her room,’ he said, hovering over my desk like a blowfly.

‘Course you can.’ I slid the top one off and passed it over.

‘What’s the story with those?’

‘They’re not for my bedroom wall, if that’s what you were meaning. I think I’ve outgrown the need for posters. No, there was something bugging me about them. I’m sure I’ll figure it out if I stare at them long enough.’

‘You stare away, then. I’m off to meet the Mrs for lunch, I’ll catch you later.’ He rolled up the poster and headed off with it towards the door.

‘Say hi from me.’

‘Sure thing. Have fun.’