“I should imagine the ACC or Chief Superintendent Gervaise will have a few ideas about that, guv. As I remember they were both dragged out of bed in the middle of the night because of me.”

Annie managed a thin smile. “That’s true.”

“What would you have done, guv, given the opportunity? I didn’t have a lot of time to make my mind up. It sounded like a one-time offer with a short expiry date to me.”

“That doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“But I got a result. Doesn’t that go some way towards exonerating me? Besides, what should I have done? Called Superintendent Carver? Have him send in the heavy squad? You know what he’s like. Or Reg and Bill, maybe?”

“You could have called me.”

“I . . . I’m sorry. I thought I had a rapport with Jade. She trusted me. I didn’t want to do something that might throw her or cause her to back off.”

“You did well, Gerry,” Annie said. “It’s just . . . I’ve been there, you know, the wrong place at the wrong time. I still have nightmares.”

“Nothing happened.”

Annie gestured toward Gerry’s shoulder. “Tell that to the officers investigating the incident. And they will, you mark my words.”

“I’ll deal with that when it happens,” said Gerry. “Let them demote me.”

Annie laughed. “They can’t demote you. You’re as low as they come to start with.”

Gerry blushed. “You know what I mean. Put me back on probation again.”

“Or traffic.”

Gerry bit her lip. “Would they do that?”

“Who knows? You’re right. Worry about it when it happens. Until then, consider yourself bollocked by your supervising officer.”

“Yes, guv. What are we going to do next?”

Annie explained about Jim Nuttall and his VW Transporter, at present in pieces in the police garage. The CSIs already thought they had identified small quantities of blood around the brake pedal and accelerator, and Jazz Singh was checking it against Mimosa’s. They were also searching for anything to connect the car with Albert Moffat. At the moment, Annie said she was waiting for the CSIs to report, then she would be talking to Albert again. He may not have been as drunk as he was acting last Tuesday, and when Warner fell asleep, he might well have decided to take matters into his own hands. How that ended up with Mimsy Moffat dead on the Bradham Road was a mystery yet to be solved.

“What about Sunny?”