‘Never know when something important’s going to crop up.’

‘How long before it rings again?’ Fox asked. ‘Will it be her every time, or have you split the task between your friends?’ Fox looked towards Tony Kaye. ‘What is it usually – five minutes or ten?’

‘Ten,’ Kaye stated definitively.

Fox turned his attention back to Ray Scholes. ‘I doubt there’s anything you can do that hasn’t been tried a hundred times. So why not just switch the phone off?’

Scholes managed a bit of a smile as he complied, Fox thanking him with a nod.

‘Was DC Carter a good cop, in your opinion?’ Fox then asked.

‘Still is.’

‘We both know he’s not coming back.’

‘How come you hate cops so much?’

Fox stared at the man across the desk. Scholes was in his mid-thirties but looked younger. A freckled face and milky-blue eyes. An odd image flashed up in Fox’s memory: a big bag of marbles he’d owned as a boy. His favourite had been a pale-blue one, its flaws only visible when you peered at it, turning it slowly between your fingers

…

‘That’s an original question,’ Tony Kaye was answering Scholes. ‘I doubt we’re asked that more than a few dozen times a month.’

‘I just don’t know why you’d want to punish everyone who’s ever worked with Paul.’

‘Not everyone,’ Fox corrected him. ‘Just the names mentioned by the sheriff.’

Scholes snorted. ‘Call that a sheriff? Ask anyone on the force – Colin Cardonald’s just the man to stick the knife in. Number of cases where he’s tried everything possible to swing it the defendant’s way

…’

‘There’s always one,’ Kaye conceded.

‘Was there any history between Sheriff Cardonald and DC Carter?’ Fox asked.

‘A bit.’

‘And between the judge and yourself?’ Fox waited, but no answer came. ‘Are you saying that Sheriff Cardonald singled out certain names because of a grudge?’