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of beer that was no longer there.
    Huw Thomas made an excuse. He needed to leave the ambulance because he could no longer face the anguish on Michael Pitcher’s face. Reggie went with him. They both started coughing when smoke hit their lungs. A fireman ran clumsily up the lane towards them, weighed down by full kit.
    ‘Sir, ma’am.’ He stood, fighting for breath in front of them. ‘An officer found a man in a building at the back of the Pitcher’s yard. We sent for Tim Pryce. He recognised him as Larry Jones. One of the Garth Estate Joneses. Tim threw him out of the Angel around midnight. He said Larry was so drunk then he couldn’t even stand. But he’s coming round now.’
    ‘Was this Larry Jones in the building in the yard when you arrived?’ Huw demanded.
    ‘No one noticed him, sir.’ The fireman admitted.
    ‘Are you telling me that none of you thought to check the buildings in the Pitcher’s yard before now?’ Huw demanded.
    ‘We were busy fighting the fire, sir.’
    ‘You trying to be funny, officer?’
    ‘No, sir.’ The young man was smoke and smut stained and, from the defeated look in his eyes, exhausted. Huw recognised him as a new recruit and dropped his hectoring tone.
    ‘Sergeant Howell?’ Reggie called.
    Frank Howell left the officers who were manning the barricade at the bridge end of Main Street and ran to Reggie.
    ‘A Larry Jones has been found in an outbuilding at the back of the Pitcher house. Do you know him?’
    ‘Yes, Super. He’s a bad lot. Do you think…’
    ‘I don’t think, Sergeant,’ she cut in brusquely. ‘I work with facts, not thoughts. I want two officers in sterile clothes and a forensic team sent to the Pitcher yard A.S.A.P. And, I want everything done by the book. That means bagging this Larry Jones’s hands and feet and covering his clothes to prevent cross contamination before we move him out. After he’s been taken to the station I want every inch of the outbuilding examined and everything found there tagged and bagged. As soon as Larry Jones is in the station, I want his clothes removed and sent to the lab. And, I want a full body search conducted and filmed. By the book, Sergeant Howell,’ she reiterated. ‘I want no margin left for complaints or errors of judgement on this one. Nothing that can get a potential criminal case thrown out of court. Understood?’
    ‘Yes, Super.’
    Reggie led the way down the lane that skirted the end of the terrace and cut behind the houses. As they approached the Pitcher yard, the smoke grew denser, making it difficult to see and breathe. Through the smoke Reggie made out the tall, thin figure of Tim Pryce, standing next to balding, stocky Dr Edwards. Half a dozen suited firemen and three uniformed constables were also in the yard.
    One of the firemen was standing at the open entrance to a dilapidated stone building. When Reggie and Huw joined him he shone a torch inside on a man who was squatting on the dirt floor.
    ‘Don’t step any further,’ Reggie warned everyone. ‘I’ve sent for a forensic team.’ She looked down at the man. She could smell his lavatory stench from eight feet away. ‘Are you Larry Jones?’
    ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ he cackled between heaving in great gulps of air.
    ‘That’s Superintendent Moore you’re talking to, Larry Jones. So mind your manners.’ Frank moved alongside the superintendent but was careful not to step past her. ‘Forensic team are on their way, ma’am.’
    ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’ She continued to study the man on the floor. ‘What do you know about this man, Sergeant Howell?’
    ‘He was sentenced to six years for aggravated burglary, rape and GBH last May. He was remanded in custody before his case came up, but I wasn’t expecting him to be out this soon.’
    ‘Anything before that?’
    ‘His record’s thicker than yellow pages.’
    ‘Check it thoroughly when you get back to the station.’ Reggie didn’t have to tell Frank for