‘Then get him on the bloody record,’ said Porter, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice and failing miserably. ‘Look, can you at least go and see him, ask if he’ll talk to me. If he will, then great, but even if he’ll only talk to you, that’d be something.’

‘Sure.’ Anderson sounded exasperated. ‘If it’ll shut you up.’

‘Today?’

‘Jesus, you don’t want much, do you? My ex-wife was less needy than this. Yes,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m knocking off early today anyway, so I’ll go see him on my way home.’

‘Cheers, Anderson. I appreciate it.’

Porter reached out and gave a friendly slap against the shoulder. He felt the soft, doughy arm under the shirt, and turned away, vowing never to let himself turn into a walking heart attack.

Porter busied himself with paperwork for the next hour. He’d barely eaten all day and his stomach growled like an ill-tempered dog. Styles offered to get him something from the canteen, so Porter gave him a five-pound note and instructions to bring back whatever had the highest meat content.

Styles had been gone less than a minute when Porter saw Anderson stand up, leaning his head to both sides, his neck cracking like popcorn in the microwave. He kept his head down, eyes focused on his screen, as the big detective lumbered past him.

‘That you done, Anderson?’ he asked without looking up.

‘Yep, catching a flyer today. I’m owed a few hours.’

‘Don’t forget to ask your guy if he’ll help out.’

‘How can I forget with you asking every five minutes?’ he asked. ‘Yep, I’ll ask. Let you know how I get on tomorrow.’

Porter waited until the door had closed behind him then counted to twenty, grabbed his car keys and headed downstairs. By the time he reached the exit to the car park, he saw Anderson fumbling with his keys beside his car, a ten-year-old Honda that hadn’t truly been white since it left the showroom. Porter took his phone out and pretended to be studying it as two officers came in past him and disappeared up the stairs. He waited until Anderson’s car edged out of its parking space, then walked quickly to his own car. He gave Anderson a five count to get clear of the building before pulling out into traffic. Rush hour was fast approaching, and the traffic was visibly thickening, the roads like arteries carrying the life of the city in both directions becoming congealed and sluggish.