When he got home, Ellie was sitting in front of the television eating a dripping sandwich.

'Good meeting?' he asked.

'Useless,’ she said. 'Why don't you declare a police state and shoot the bastards? You know what they said? Higher education might be a luxury this authority could no longer afford!'

'Quite right,’ he said, regarding her affectionately. She was worth his regard. Friends at university, they had met again during an investigation at Holm Coultram College where Ellie was a lecturer. After some preliminary skirmishing they had become lovers and then, the previous year, got married. It was not an easy marriage, but nothing worthwhile ever was, thought Pascoe with a swift descent into Reader's Digest philosophy.

'You know who they've brought in to chair our liaison committee? Godfrey bloody Blengdale, that's who.'

'Is that bad?' asked Pascoe, yawning. He sat down on the sofa next to Ellie, took a bite of her sandwich and focused on the television screen.

'It's sinister,' said Ellie, frowning. 'He's the right-wing hatchet man on that council. I've never really believed there was a chance they could seriously consider closing the college down, but now

… shall I switch this off?'

'No,' said Pascoe, watching with interest as James Cagney prepared to sort out a guy twice his size. 'I may learn something.'

'About dealing with suspects?'

'About dealing with women. Is this the one where he pushes the grapefruit in whatsername's face?'

'I don't know. I haven't really been watching. It's just been something to take my mind off those pompous bastards. Where've you been anyway? Boozing with Yorkshire's Maigret?'

'No. I've been to the pictures which is what makes this so nice.'