Though Banks was a detective and Carver wore a uniform, that didn’t count for anything; in rank, they were equal. But Banks could tell by Carver’s arrogant manner that he clearly felt coming from a tough urban patch made him somehow superior to these lowly sheep-shaggers on the edge of the largely rural Yorkshire Dales. Carver was all brass, bulk and Brylcreem, slathered with an aftershave that smelled like a tart’s window box. He wedged himself into a chair by the conference table and began his litany of woes. Before he could get too far, Banks sent for Annie and Gerry, who had just got back from taking Sinead Moffat to identify her dead daughter at the mortuary. They turned up a few minutes later, coffees in hand.

“Sit down,” said Banks. “Superintendent Carver here has brought some very serious complaints to me regarding you two. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“We’d like to hear what we’ve been accused of first, sir,” said Annie.

“You ought to know by now,” Banks said, “that it’s a matter of courtesy to inform the officer in charge of a neighboring policing area when you intend visiting his patch.”

“It wasn’t a planned visit,” said Annie. “We received an anonymous phone call identifying the girl found dead on Bradham Lane and we—”

“You should still have informed Wytherton Police Station of your visit. But that’s the least of the problems. I have it on the authority of Superintendent Carver here that you intimidated two of his patrol officers on the street. PCs Reginald Babcock and William Lamont.”

“Intimidated? That’s a laugh.”

Carver glared at her.

“Would ‘played silly buggers with’ describe the incident more accurately?” Banks asked, with one arched eyebrow.

“Last night we returned to Southam Terrace on the Wytherton Heights estate to talk to the girl’s mother, a recovering heroin addict who wasn’t home during our first visit.”

“So this was your second unannounced call on Wytherton in the same day?”

“Yes.” Annie glanced at Carver. “Apologies for not ringing ahead. Perhaps we should have said we were coming, but we thought we had more important matters to deal with at the time. Sometimes you just get caught up in the momentum of an investigation. The case was breaking fast after several days of getting nowhere.”

Carver inclined his head in acceptance of the apology.

“When DC Masterson and I got out of our car,” Annie went on, “we were approached by the two officers in question. DC Masterson made a note of their numbers if—”

“I know who they are,” growled Carver. “Reg and Bill are two of my best men.”

“Then I’d hate to meet any of the others,” said Annie.

Carver gave her an appraising glance. “I imagine you would,” he said. “I’ve been having a word or two about you, and it seems your record is hardly unblemished, not without incident.”