Maggie was at her desk when Rupert entered.

What's up? Can't sleep?"

"I have no problem sleeping, and I have a signature for Mr Sinclair's exhumation. I'll give the council offices grief this morning for the rest. Later, I want to deliver it to the Ministry of Justice in London. With any luck, I'll return with it signed and sealed. Yes or no?"

Rupert smiled. "What have we got to lose? Go for it."

Maggie grabbed her coat and lifted her bag. "Thanks, guv. See you tomorrow."

***

Joyce closed her office.e door but did not make her desk before the phone rang. With a busy day in front of her, she was tempted not to answer. After all, no one would know.

"Good morning, DCI Parsons."

"Hi, Joyce Samantha Harman. I tried to contact you yesterday. I'm due in court in thirty minutes, so please listen."

"Go ahead.

The other night, I had dinner with a friend, and he queried why I was involved in a public prosecution. I gave him an outline, and he asked if he could read the files. Yesterday, he informed me he had applied the standard two-stage test for crown prosecutors. He reckons there's enough evidence for a conviction, and it's in the public interest. The paperwork is in motion. Sometime tomorrow, Hugh Talbot will be suspended from the police. It's excellent news. Can you let Maggie know?"

"Great news, Samantha. Like you, I'm in a hurry. Okay, to talk later?"

"I'll call you. Joyce." The line went dead.

"Excuse me, guv."

Joyce nodded. "Make it quick, Sargent."

You might want to know what happened to the brick-throwing soldier guv. As I mentioned, I visited the TA Unit. Their commanding officer was receptive to my request for help. He let me talk to the whole outfit. I couldn't believe it. In five minutes, they gave me enough money to replace the window, and as luck would have it, one of the soldiers, a corporal, was a glazier. He assured me he would replace the window the following day at cost.

He took what he said was the price of a standard toughened glass shop window, and I still had a few notes.

Before I could say anything, I was requested to meet with Colonel David Urquhart in his office. To cut it short, he wanted to talk to our man in the cells.

"You brought him here?"

"You'd better believe it. And he offered him a job and the use of the gatekeeper's accommodation. There are a couple of conditions."

"A wise man."

"No booze and no drugs."

"Sergeant, it goes without saying all credit to you. With help, I'm sure the ex-soldier will find his feet. At least now, with an address, he can open a bank account, receive his pension and sort his life out. Look, I must dash, but thanks for letting me know. I appreciate you doing this on your own time."

"Same as you give when you help some girls on the street. You could have arrested them but helped them when you could."

"It's what people like us do, sergeant. As I said, I must run. Please keep me up to date."

***

The sun briefly appeared as Joyce dashed into the station car park. "Shit," she screamed when she saw her car blocked by another.

Fuming, she darted back into reception. "Sergeant, some idiot driving," she pointed, "a cream-coloured BMW has blocked my car. Whoever it is, get them to move it before I push it out of my way and make a claim for damages."

"I'll shift it, guv. The gentleman left his keys with me. My apologies; I didn't think you were going out today.

"Since when must I explain my actions to a desk sergeant?" She shrugged and followed him.

In an instant, she drove away. Annoyed, she grimaced as a shower washed the windscreen. With the wipers moving steadily, she turned her thoughts to Pete Mitchell.

The prison car park and the rain added gloom to its surroundings. Out of her car, she strode towards the entrance gate.

A uniformed officer standing in the shelter waited. Can I help you?"

Joyce flashed her Warrant card. "Chief Inspector Joyce Parsons. Serious Crime Squad. I have an appointment with one of your remand guests."

He nodded. "Your name is on the list. To be fair, we expected you earlier."

"Work got in the way."

He opened the door to the main gate. "Please wait until I've secured this gate. On my signal, please walk towards the inner gate."

"I have done this before."

"Doesn't matter. Rules are rules. You should know that. You should be thankful your man is in remand."

"The bastard almost killed one of my officers. If he was six feet under, I'd be thankful. Now he wants to make a deal."

"When they are caught, they make a deal. Remember the Dirty Harry films. His method of eliminating the bad guys saved the country a fortune."

"To tell the truth," said Joyce. "There are times when I might agree with you."

The prison officer unlocked a steel door. "Here we are, Chief Inspector. This is as far as I go. My colleague will take you into the interview room."

A long-legged and thin uniformed female officer smiled. "Lee Giles. I will take you to the interview room first, and when you are ready, fetch Peter Mitchell. Is that satisfactory?"

"You couldn't kick him in the balls before I see him. No witnesses, of course."

"We leave fighting to the inmates. She unlocked a door. Joyce followed her into a sterile room. The air smelled of antibiological soap. A plan table with two chairs, one on either side of the furniture. A Red diode flickered on the camera high in a corner.

Joyce pulled out a hair and seated herself. "Would you please collect Peter Mitchell and bring him here. His solicitor will not be with him, so you must stay.

"No problem. I'll be ten minutes."

Joyce leaned back. Mitchell was how old? She pulled the file from her bag and glanced at the first page. Thirty-eight with a record of grievous bodily harm, two armed robberies and carrying an illegal weapon. A habitual criminal and now charged with attempted murder.

The door opened, and Pete Mitchell sauntered to the table. "Thanks, Lee." He nodded to Joyce. "Do you mind if I sit, Chief Inspector?"

"Mr Mitchell. Let's get something straight. You tried to kill my Inspector. Shut up and let me finish. I do not care what you do. I'm only here because you requested a visit. My superior has directed me to tell you there is no deal and never will be. You murdered the young man in the disco and almost killed a police officer. You are going to jail for a long time. If you asked me, I'd throw away the key, but that's for a judge to decide. Have you anything else to say."

"I have the information you need to arrest the Watsons and put them away, but you need to get me out of here before I say a word."

Officer Giles, did you hear Mr Mitchell tell me he had information about the Watson family?

Lee smiled. "I did, Chief Inspector."

"How long do you think he'll survive if the Watsons discover he is a grass."

"No idea, but I'd never close my eyes and try to sleep."

Mitchell's face reddened, and his voice became loud. "You fucking bitch."

She grinned. "Now we know where we stand. Help me out, or I'll tell Christabel you're a snitch. And you know she can never keep her mouth shut even when giving Jack Watson a blow job.

Mitchell shoved his right hand through his hair as a wry smile crossed his face. Jack keeps her on a short chain, but when he's out of town, she uses her grotty flat to change the record."

Joyce shook her head. "Are you telling me Christabel is AC/DC?"

Mitchell cocked his head. "Don't tell me you didn't know. She could do a turn with the best of them. To her, any willing partner, even a double bagger, was better than being alone."

Joyce sighed. "This is some fucked up world."

"But that's not what you want to know, right?"

"I know Jack ordered the young man to be roughed up, but I doubt if he wanted him dead. Why did you kill him?"

"Why haven't you charged Jack?"

"Not enough evidence."

Mitchell gave himself a few moments. "She did it. My intention was to scare the shit out of him. Cut his clothes and mark his face."

"How did she kill him?"

"I showed her the knife and poked him in the back. She grabbed and shoved him hard onto the blade. You've seen the video. She's not dancing. She's killing the poor bastard, and I stood there holding the fucking knife."

Joyce thumbed the pages of her file. "Three penetration wounds, possibly a stiletto blade. Sharp as a razor. She checked the time and thought, Where's the day gone.

"You don't believe me."

Joyce did not answer. Officer Lee, what do you think? Your gut feeling."

"Certainly, different but not impossible with a stiletto. How many stab wounds."

"Three. The one who entered the heart killed."

"I believe you should take another look at the video."

"You're right. You should have been a copper."

"I was for three years, but as a single mum, it was difficult."

"Pete, I'll check out your story. That's all I can promise."

Joyce left the interview room and, with her escort, returned to the main gate. In the distance from the main prison gate to her car, the heavens opened. Drenched from head to toe, she sat inside her car and could feel the water trickling towards her knickers.

"Time to go home."