'It's a tenable position,' said Pascoe, trying to re-grasp the initiative. 'I may need to talk to you again.'

'Any time you like, sunshine,' came the voice drifting back along the lines of sleet. 'Any time, as long as I'm not busy.'

Pascoe and Wield went through into the yard of No. 25 and let themselves into the house. The fingerprint man was hard at work in the kitchen.

'Anything?' asked Pascoe.

'Millions,' came the cheerful answer. 'I reckon there's more dabs here than there is in the North Sea.'

'Ha ha,' said Pascoe. 'And thanks a lot. Sergeant, we’ll need everyone who was in the house for elimination. Get a start on it, will you? Combine it with door-to-door along the street. Anyone see or hear anything? Any strangers wandering around? Why am I telling you this? You know the drill at least as well as I do. Use Hector and anyone else you can lay your hands on. I'll get some extra hands drafted in as soon as I can.'

'Where will you be, sir?' inquired Wield.

'At the hospital,' said Pascoe. 'Talking to Mrs Frostick, if possible, and checking on what killed Deeks.'

He paused at the door, turning his already dripping raincoat collar up as the wind outside shrieked its joy at the prospect of having another go at him.

'And if I find George Headingley in intensive care,' he added bitterly, 'it might just about justify getting me mixed up in this lot.'

Chapter 5

'Bring me all the blotting-paper there is in the house!'

In the event, it took George Headingley only five minutes to convince Pascoe that there were worse things to be mixed up with than murder inquiries. 'You've got yourself a real mess there, George,' he said feelingly. 'A real mess!'

'You can say that again,' said Headingley. 'I'm sorry I got you called out, but I got this feeling I was going to be needed mopping up after Fat Andy, and as things are turning out, I was right.'