But that didn’t change the fact that the evening had been completely ruined. And it was all thanks to that bloody copper, Bailey Morgan. Nancy’s hatred of Bailey had increased several-fold since her escape. Getting one over on Nancy in the first place was bad enough, but Bailey managing to escape like this rubbed salt into the wound in a big way. And what was more, Nancy still hadn’t managed to find out who Mister Snigiss was. She was seriously riled.

She glanced over to see Rick studying his phone intently. He looked up at her.

‘The Range Rover’s got this tracker device installed in case it gets nicked. It comes with this mobile app which lets me see where it’s going. It’s currently telling me it’s in Enfield.’

‘Bailey’s in Enfield? Wasn’t that where our pet plod was heading off to?’

Rick shrugged. ‘Haven’t been able to get through to him. I’ve called him at least eight times.’

‘Try again,’ said Nancy.

Rick sighed and dialled the number for Bailey’s undercover phone. The rest of the table watched and waited. He suddenly stiffened and his eyes widened slightly. It appeared that this time someone had answered it.

‘Oh yeah?’ he rasped.

By the murderous look on his face, Nancy could tell that something was off. She fidgeted impatiently with her lighter, eager for him to tell her what was going on.

‘Is that so?’ he growled.

He ended the call and stared at his phone in disgust.

‘Was that who I think it was?’ she said.

He nodded and threw the phone onto the table.

‘Yeah. Bailey fucking Morgan. She just informed me that our bent copper’s dead. She told me he had his brains blown out by a five-year-old girl.’

Nancy grimaced in anger. With every minute that went by, her loathing of Bailey Morgan seemed to ratchet up yet another notch.

They all lapsed into mute contemplation, filled with toxic thoughts about Bailey.

After a while, Shane broke the silence.

‘What do we do with this?’ he asked, holding up Bailey’s handbag. It had been left in the booth that she and Dale had been occupying.

Nancy afforded it a reluctant sullen glance, as if that was the least of their worries. She flicked her fingers at it dismissively, indicating that Shane should just get rid of it by whatever means necessary.

Then she looked at it again, this time with a sly glimmer in her dark eyes. ‘On second thoughts…’ she said, and held out her hand.

Shane passed her the handbag. Holding it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, contaminated as it was by the dirty fingers of the Filth, she upended it, spilling the contents out over the table.

A lipstick. A tampon. A pen. A packet of tissues… The glint of gold caught Nancy’s eye. It looked like some kind of small necklace. Nancy peered at it with interest. She picked it up by its thin gold chain. Holding it in front of her, she examined the small green stone pendant.