Manolis wanted to tell him he was proven right. Instead, he suggested that Sparrow ‘go buy a lottery ticket’.

‘Prob’ly, good idea,’ he said. ‘Then I can retire early, and stop having all this bloody fun.’

‘What did the docs say?’

‘Just a few scratches. I’ll be fine.’

Manolis rolled his eyes. He conveyed mild amusement but felt grave concern.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Sparrow repeated.

Manolis touched Sparrow’s arm, transferred warmth into his cold skin.

‘I’m pleased, mate. Can I get you anything?’

Sparrow shook his head. ‘Thanks for not letting me cark it. Yer blood’s worth bottlin’.’

‘Be seeing you.’

Sparrow gave an unconvincing thumbs-up, closed his eyes and slept.

Following the unmissable sound of torturous coughing, Manolis relocated the nurse, made a second enquiry. This time, he had to show his badge. The patient, he was told, was on heavy morphine.

Behind another blue curtain, a pair of bloodshot eyes stared at a hole in the ceiling. Manolis stood at the foot of the bed, his face hard-boiled.

‘Rex, do you know where you are?’

The vacant red eyes drifted, met his gaze. Rex’s head was bandaged like a clumsy turban, his wounds crusty with yellow pus and dried blood. Mournful streaks of silver ran down his face. Given the lack of hospital hygiene, Manolis was more concerned about the risk of infection than he was for Rex’s injuries. Looking down, he noticed the hairless patch of skin on Rex’s arm that he’d seen the day he arrived in Cobb. Rex had claimed it was due to a burn as a child. Manolis now realised it was where he’d hung the gaffer tape during the stoning, before ripping it off.

‘Rex,’ Manolis repeated. ‘Where are you?’

Rex moistened dry lips, squinted. ‘Con… Is that you, mate?’

The bed’s side rails were up. Manolis leant in, cranked the handle and reluctantly raised Rex’s head with three firm jolts.

The detective was dismayed. Despite days of recovery, the old man’s brain was still scrambled. Manolis had prepared a list of charges including fraud, tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, and interfering with a corpse. He thought it still possible that Molly’s death was murder, but decided not to pursue the charge because of the element of doubt. Not that there was any point placing Rex under arrest now. He would leave that to a later time, assuming Rex regained his faculties.

Manolis eyed the old man directly, searching for an approach. Molly’s phone records had revealed the nuisance calls were from Rex, probably harassing his wayward daughter-in-law for helping a desperate brown man with his visa application. For an exiled politician plotting a triumphant return to power, that was unthinkable.

‘Con? Is that you?’