No. He wasn't quite ready. He walked up to the garage and peered in. What he saw surprised him.

'Sergeant!' Backhouse called authoritatively. Pascoe instinctively obeyed the summons and had joined the superintendent at the threshold before he started wondering about the tone of command. A new step in the psychology of their relationship perhaps. A reminder of his official subordination.

Or perhaps his service with Dalziel had made him too suspicious of all detective-superintendents' motives. Perhaps all Backhouse was doing was using his police rank as a red herring to divert the interest of the newspapermen from him. Clearly, as they moved off in a friendly, almost light-hearted, little group, they had no suspicion that the discoverer of the crime was so close.

In the cottage, much had changed. No effort had been made to tidy up after the rigorous search and fingerprinting examination which had taken place. Why bother when there was no chance of an irate householder turning up to complain?

Backhouse thought differently.

'For God's sake, Hamblyn,' he said to the ginger-moustached detective who came to greet him, 'get this place tidied up. And those cars outside. If I want a road-block here, I'll ask for it.'

'Yes, sir,' said Hamblyn unemotionally.

'Anything new?'

'Nothing useful, sir. Not as far as I can see. Anything on the car yet, sir?'

'I'm afraid not.'

Pascoe spoke lowly, diffidently.

'There's a car in the garage,' he said. It sounded daft as he said it but, hell, he had to say it. Not that it was possible they wouldn't have looked. Was it?

'Yes, yes; I believe there is,' said Backhouse. Then he laughed.

'Oh, I see your dilemma. Yes it's true the Hopkinses' car is in the garage. But it's the other one we're interested in. Royal blue Mini-Cooper according to best report. The one Mr Rushworth and Mr Mansfield arrived in.'