‘Perhaps the kid’s father wanted custody?’ suggested Simms. ‘He wouldn’t have been happy leaving his kid with her.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Skinner, although until then it hadn’t crossed his mind. His money was still on paedophiles. ‘Let’s ask her.’

Back in the living room, Sadie was draining the dregs from a near-empty gin bottle which she hastily put down.

‘Has the child’s father ever tried to get custody of the baby?’

‘He only need bleeding ask,’ slurred Sadie. ‘He could have it gift-wrapped.’

‘We’d better check him out anyway. What’s his name? Where can we find him?’

‘I don’t know his flaming name. Charlie something. I only met him the once and he hardly said a flaming word once his trousers were off.’ A rat- tat at the front door made her look round. ‘Who the hell is that?’

Skinner jerked a thumb at Simms. ‘Get it. It might be SOCO.’

Detective Inspector Jack Frost, maroon scarf dangling from his neck, pushed past Simms and made his way up the passage. ‘Strong smell of cat’s pee. Sadie must be in.’

Sadie scowled at his arrival. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she sniffed.

‘Only the best for you, Sadie,’ breezed Frost. He kicked at some of the broken crockery on the floor. ‘Had a Greek wedding?’

Sadie scowled. ‘My baby’s been kidnapped and he’s making bleeding jokes.’

Skinner pushed forward. ‘That remark is out of order.’

Frost stared at him. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Skinner. Detective Chief Inspector Skinner.’ He emphasised the ‘Chief’. This scruff was obviously Frost, the man Mullett wanted him to get rid of, the man whose days in Denton were numbered.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ grunted Frost without conviction. ‘Thanks for keeping my seat warm. I’ll take over now.’

‘You are not taking over, Inspector,’ declared Skinner. ‘This is my case.’ But Frost had his back to him and was talking to the mother.