On her return to the station, Joyce stopped at reception. "Sergeant, what cell is Mitchell in?"

"The one with the broken toilet, guv. You might notice a slight swelling on his lip. He tripped and fell. I reckon he's been on drugs."

"Has a doctor seen him?"

The sergeant grimaced. "The duty doctor is out on a call. His wife will tell him to get here when he returns to the surgery."

"Did the duty inspector charge him with attempted murder of a police officer?"

"Done and dusted, guv, plus his holding the woman hostage."

"What about his brief?"

"Shit. We were so busy, and I forgot about it when Mitchell arrived. I'll do it right now."

Joyce smiled. "You should know better, sergeant. I'm going to the cell block to chat with Mitchell."

"Do you want me to get someone to go with you?"

"Thanks, but I'll chat to him through the grill. I can always shut it if he pisses me off."

"I'll contact his lawyer."

Joyce stood at the cell door before opening the flap. "Peter Mitchell, If you tell me what I need to know, we can agree on the charges."

Mitchell approached the door and placed his hands on the frame. "You can charge me with whatever. My brief will get me out of here. For the moment, I'm saying nothing about anything."

"For your information, I went to the hospital to check on my inspector. It will be touch and go if he survives. Murdering a police officer carries a thirty-year sentence or longer."

"Don't give me shit. The idiot fell on the knife. I didn't fucking stab him."

"I have a constable who saw you attack and stab the officer."

"You're a lying bitch."

She smiled. "I may well be, but I'm outside this cell and can hold you for as long as I want. If my inspector dies, you'll be lucky to see the sunshine again."

Mitchell thumped and kicked the metal door. "You can't get away with this, bitch."

"I wouldn't bet on it. A few well-chosen words in my report will close the door on you forever. The tart you were shagging will have to find someone else. I could always tell the prison staff you're AC – DC. A lifer could use your body. You never know you might enjoy it."

"I've met some hard-faced bitches, but you're something else."

"How did you know? All the men I know say I'm a pussy cat with sharp claws. As I mentioned, tell me what I need to know, and I'll determine your direction."

"Okay, bitch. You can ask me the question, but it doesn't mean I'll answer."

"I want to know who stabbed the young man at the nightclub. You or Jack Watson?"

"You are something else. Whatever way I turn, I'm fucked."

"You must have at least one working brain cell. I can help you or bury you. Your decision."

"Do you think I'm stupid? If I admit to the stabbing, I'm in for life. If I say Jack did it, I don't have a life."

Joyce fixed a smile on her face. "Have a word with your brief, but as I have you dangling on a hook, if my inspector dies, the second is irrelevant."

"Jack did for the lad when he saw him having a dry fuck on the dance floor. I'll plead guilty to manslaughter if your man dies."

"I'm sure you know manslaughter is a lesser offence. I need to give it some thought."

"Excuse me, guv, Mitchell's brief has arrived."

"Thank you, sergeant." Joyce closed her eyes. She had to outfox Mitchell's brief. "You can tell him Mitchell is waiting."

"No need," came Jeromy Charter's smooth voice from behind. "You have been busy, Chief Inspector. Hounding innocent people."

"He stabbed my inspector."

He gave a wry smile. "Alleged to have stabbed the inspector."

"I have a witness who will confirm he stabbed my inspector with intent to kill. So, don't use the word alleged, as I know the facts."

"And the condition of the inspector?"

"Last I heard, he was on the operating table."

Charter rubbed his chin. "So, it's not murder."

Joyce stared into his eyes. "It is if he dies."

"I'd plumb for manslaughter. You'd have a hard job proving premeditation."

Joyce shrugged. "I have to prove nothing. The witness is the police officer who dragged Mr Mitchell off my officer." She glanced at her watch and fought the urge to kick him in the balls. "I have to report to my boss. You can have as long as you need with your client. I'll talk to him in the morning.

"Sergeant, have a constable placed outside the cell door for as long as required."

"Yes, guv."

With long strides, she climbed the stairs. She grinned. My little chat with the fool Mitchell went better than she had hoped. I know the answers, but proving it requires solid evidence.

She telephoned the Chief Superintendent back in her office, hoping he was out. His secretary answered and put her straight through.

"You returned to the station half an hour ago. When I heard one of my officers was hurt, I expected you to inform me. My office now."

"Yes, boss." The line went dead. Three minutes later, she strolled into the Chief Superintendent's outer office.

Sara, his secretary, pointed. "He's waiting and in a temper."

"Big deal," whispered Joyce.

As Joyce entered, Chief Superintendent Julian Archer lifted his head. She stopped, turned and closed the door.

He pointed. "Sit. What game are we playing? Why didn't you report Inspector Brown's injury when it happened?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Why are you such a pain in my backside?"

"What you mean, sir, is I'm not chasing promotion but doing my job. My priority was his survival. Next was to clear up the remnants of his operation. As I'm sure you know, Inspector Brown is in the General. I told his wife to contact me if she needs help. I had an unrecorded talk with Peter Mitchell on my return to the station for your ears only. And before you tell me I can't use it as evidence, I know who did the nightclub stabbing. I now have to prove it. And believe me, I will."

"No matter how good you think you are, if you're in the wrong place, you're worthless. A Chief Inspector for five minutes, and you do as you please."

Joyce thumped his desk. "I do my job. If I've done something wrong, demote me. I use the rules and play the game. Your problem with me is I'm a woman, and if the Chief Constable hadn't pushed, you wouldn't have promoted me. If I stay in this station, I'll have your job before I leave."

"Enough, Joyce."

"Chief Inspector, sir."

"I apologise. Happy now?"

"I don't want an apology from you or anyone else. I do my job as well, if not better than any man. The days of women making cups of tea are over, sir. When I joined the force, I remember overhearing a senior officer comment that we would never be as good as men. When you understand we are here to stay, life will improve for everyone. If you want me to resign, tell me."

Julian churched his fingers. "I don't want you to resign. You are the best example of a female officer in the county. A credit to the force."

"Stop, you're doing it again. I'm a police officer. Being female has nothing to do with it. The rules are the same for you as they are for me."

Julian held up both hands. "Joyce, you win. I wound you up, and away you went. I've learnt my lesson. But repeat a word of this conversation to anyone, and I will have your resignation."

She frowned. "Hope my husband is not anyone."

"Rupert is a well-respected and retired senior officer. He guided me through a few awkward moments, as I'm sure he has assisted in directing your course. I should have realised and not worried about Roger. One more thing, keep me informed about the nightclub stabbing."

"Yes. sir."

Julian's secretary peered over her glasses at Joyce. "Didn't hear a word."

"I love you too." Shaking, she left the office.