Frost pulled Collier to one side. 'What's old mother Beatty doing here?'

'Waiting for her statement to be typed,' said Collier. 'She's the rape victim.'

'Rape victim? In her bloody dreams!' snorted Frost. 'Where's DI Maud?'

Acting Detective Inspector Liz Maud, twenty-six years old, dark hair scragged back, stared at the man on the other side of the table who was lolling back in his chair, a look of amused contempt on his face. 'Let's go over it again from when you picked the woman up from the railway station…'

The man gave a resigned shrug. 'All right, but this is the last time. The old crow phones for a cab. I picked her up, took her to where she wanted to go, dropped her off and I drove away.'

'The woman tells a different story,' said Liz Maud. 'She claims you drove round to a side street and you raped her.'

'Do me a favour,' protested the man. I'm bleeding fussy who I rape.' He gave her a smirk. 'Now if it was you, darling-'

'If it was me,' Liz snapped, 'you wouldn't have anything left to rape with.' He mimed a mocking grimace of pain as she tugged a form sheet from its folder. 'You make a habit of assaulting female passengers, don't you?'

He expelled breath in exasperation. 'If you're referring to that slag of a prostitute, then we're talking ancient bloody history.'

'Nine months ago,' said Liz. 'Recent bloody history!f you ask me.' She looked up in annoyance as the door creaked open and, without knocking, Frost walked in. What the hell did he want? She turned to the microphone. 'For the benefit of the tape, Detective Inspector Frost has entered the interview room.' She wiped a wisp of straggling hair from her forehead and glowered at him. 'Yes, Inspector?'

He beckoned her over to the door. 'A quick word.'

Her lips tightened. 'Later – I'm in the middle of an interview.'