A call to the mortuary told Joyce nothing new. She opened her desk drawer, removed the gold earring, and placed it in her wallet. Grabbing her car keys, she headed for the carpark.

It was well known that many of the girls started early on the street. Their motto is to start early and finish at a reasonable hour.

Joyce drove straight to the street and stopped. Further along, Alice Fronks chatted to a punter. She chuckled as the middle-aged man drove away.

Careful where she placed her feet amongst the used condoms and cigarette butts, she exited her car and strolled towards Alice.

Alice shook her head. "What can we do for you, Inspector."

"Chief Inspector, if you don't mind, Alice." Joyce pointed to a young woman seated on a chair in a doorway. "Is she okay?"

Alice laughed. "Her pimp dosed her up, and now she hasn't a clue what day it is. She's a danger to herself. I've sent for a cab to take her home. What are you doing here?"

"I'll assume the whole estate knows Carol Parmenter was killed by her partner and pimp."

Alice nodded.

"Last night, I spent time with my team and the home office pathologist collecting what was left of him under a train."

Carol shrugged. "Nasty piece of work. Total scum. He had no respect for us working girls. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Don't think anyone will miss him. What will happen to her kids?"

"They are with a foster family. Good people who care and will help them recover from losing their mum. Anyway, I'm asking if Lucy Fielding is working tonight?"

Carol studied Joyce warily as some of the other women gathered close. "Can I ask why?"

Joyce removed the L-shaped earring from her pocket and held it up for all to see. "I believe she might have lost this. I found it White Horse Tunnel. She must have been giving a punter a knee trembler, and it fell off."

Carol smiled. "You could say she was doing the night shift. I'll make sure she gets it back."

Joyce smiled, well aware these women made the best they could out of their lives. "Tell her to be more careful in future. Must dash the old man is cooking dinner, I hope."

As Joyce drove away, one of the girls muttered. "She knows and has given us the evidence."

"That lady is one of the good cops, but never lie to her, or your feet won't touch the ground as she slams the cell door. I'm going for a drink. Anyone interested?"

Joyce barely noticed the roads she was driving as she went home. Self-doubt began to seep into her mind. The earing, should she have given it back? She shouted at a driver who overtook the turned left without signalling. She concentrated on the road. The here and now. What good would have come from locking up four or more women who disposed of rubbish? Their kids would end up in care and maybe in long-term prison. Inwardly she hoped that someone's life might change.

Like a homing pigeon, She accelerated along the duel carriageway and into an up-market residential development. This was a completely different world from the one she worked in. Children did their homework and expected the good things in life. In most cases, divorce was the biggest crime. As a generalisation, the wife got the house, and the husband moved out. A few weeks later, another city gent moved in. She smiled. Life with Rupert was not perfect, but then what relationship was. She loved him, and he was devoted to her. With her car parked next to Rupert's, she operated the remote locking on walking away.

"Joyce, is that you?" came a call from the kitchen.

"Who else are you expecting." She entered the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his body. "It's been a long day."

"Carol Parmenter was stabbed to death yesterday, and during the night, her pimp and partner met his end under the wheels of a train. I can say honestly he will not be missed."

"It's beef stew, new potatoes, garden peas with thick onion gravy for dinner. Fresh from Marks and Sparks."

"I could eat a horse."

"Sorry, love, I didn't see that on the shelves. Go and wash, and it'll be on the table when you return."

"I'd prefer a plate."

"Your so fussy."

After dinner, they sat opposite each other, sipping a cheap merlot.

"How did your day go?

"I'm starting to get to grips with it. Some of those old files are so disgusting I made the team wear coveralls, gloves and masks before they handled them. We are employing cleaners to hoover the crap up each night. I don't want to know where some records were stored. A Cesspit might have less smelly. I haven't told the governor, but if anything is over eighty years old, it's shredded and sent for incineration. I had a shower at the station before I came home."

"Why eighty years?"

Rupert nodded. "Solved or open after eighty years, who cares. Depending on how it goes, we might have to stipulate seventy."

"What is happening with cold cases?"

"Honestly, I haven't even started to look at them. It'll take weeks to have some semblance of order that allows us to retrieve as and when. It might reduce the pile if I gave them the once over. Minor crimes over fifty years will be shredded. No point in asking questions. Most people cannot remember what they did last week yet some unknown date fifty years ago."

Joyce sensed something was not quite right with Rupert. She recognised the look of a detective.

"Joyce, please do not jump down my throat, but the crime squad can eat you alive. It takes your heart and soul unless you are strong. It would be best if you talked to me. Two gruesome murders in less than twenty-four hours. My mentor told me the best thing is to talk about it. Men tend to get rat-arsed in the pub. You came home to solid domesticity. So, please speak to me. Tell me what you saw you felt at the moment. Talk and don't stop until you lose your voice."

She sat with her legs curled under her on the settee. "Yesterday was worse because I knew the victim. At one time, I even bought birthday presents for her kids. You know we are the lucky ones. How do they live on that estate?"

"Keep talking. I will not ask any questions or answer them. Search your soul if you need answers because how do I know what is festering in your mind."

A rush of words spewed from her mouth. "You're a lovable bastard, and I hate you when you're right. I remember my mum telling me. Kindness is not a weakness. It takes strength to be kind. I know what she meant, but two kids lost their mother and father yesterday. I know Maureen loved them to bits. He, their father, was simply a nasty piece of work. I hope he rots in hell. When I saw his decapitated head, I wanted to plant it on a spike and position it in the centre of that hell hole those people exist in. Why doesn't the council? The government, someone does something. They tell us funds are not available but expect the like of you and me to collect the shit and shove it in prison."

She let the words flow freely from her mouth for the next hour and a half. When she stopped, she wiped a tear from her face.

Rupert looked into Joyce's eyes. "A double brandy while taking a hot bath will help you relax and sleep."

"Thank you."

"I'll have a drink with you. Drinking alone is not good for you." He removed a bottle of Napoleon Brandy from the sideboard and two tumblers. He poured two generous helpings and gave her one glass. "To your new job."

"She sipped hers. "Do you know I feel like I've filed everything in its place?"

"You'll have flashbacks, hopefully, not many." He filled his mouth with brandy, swished it around and swallowed. "You get ready. I'll run the bath."

She closed her eyes and leant back in the settee. She opened them and listened to the water running into the bath. With her glass empty, she made her way to the bathroom. The scent of Lavender filled the room as she opened the door. "You spoil me, Rupert."

From the bedroom, she heard. "There's no one else I want to."

***

Naked, Joyce strode into the bedroom.

Already in bed, Rupert opened his eyes. "How are you?"

With a grin, she slid between the sheets and snuggled close to him.

H wrapped his arms around her and kissed her moist lips. "You smell delicious, and you haven't answered my question."

She giggled. "Turn out the light. And you'll find out.