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for tea in the morning, soup at lunchtime, but she won’t stay long. She spends a lot of time on her own. The
regulars know her at the train station. If the right person’s on duty, they’ll let her sleep in the toilets. When she does pair up, she stays with Mason; he’s about the same age.
It’s then that she sleeps on Parade Street. Mason has a dog.’
    ‘What’s Mason like?’
    ‘He’s about thirty. He wears a grey hat pulled down over his ears. He’s a quiet lad. His dog is called Sandy. She’s ugly-looking but soft when you know her.’
    Willis was still making notes.
    Carter was watching a heated discussion that had broken out at the PCs.
    ‘Is there anyone that comes here you think we should speak to about this incident?’ he asked.
    Sheila stood and glared at the group who were arguing over the PCs. She looked down at Carter.
    ‘You should speak to the lads from the estate, that’s who.’ She leant forward, spoke now in a hissing whisper: ‘They kill someone for nothing. They kill as part of some
bloody initiation rite. They’re always making trouble. They have attacked rough sleepers from this area before now.’
    Willis was watching Lyndsey stare into her teacup.
    ‘Is that your judgement too, Lyndsey – that it could be someone from the estate?’
    She looked up and shrugged.
    ‘I don’t know the area like Sheila but I know the people who come here will lie about most things – they’ll tell you anything they think you want to hear but I would not
expect any of them to commit murder.’
    Simon Smith appeared then, to sort out the dispute at the PCs.
    Carter stood. ‘Thanks for your help, ladies, and for the tea,’ he said as Willis closed her notebook.
    Simon stopped them on their way out.
    ‘Any good?’
    ‘Sheila and Lyndsey have been a great help, thanks. I wanted to ask you about a man named Toffee. Did you speak to him this morning?’
    ‘Toffee? Did I speak to him? Yes, briefly.’
    ‘What about?’
    ‘Just chit-chat, really.’
    ‘Nothing to concern you?’ Simon shook his head. ‘If you see Toffee again, can you ask him to get in touch with us, please. You have our direct line.’
    ‘Of course.’

Chapter 5
    They got outside and walked to the car. Carter got in and slammed the door shut.
    ‘Christ Almighty, you’d think he was doing us a favour. A woman died here, probably killed by some people that Smith was serving breakfast to. Stuck-up twat.’ He looked across
at Willis as she closed her door.
    ‘Simon Smith was a strange mix,’ she said as she did up her seat belt. ‘He looked and talked like a confident public-school boy but then he’s working in a homeless
hostel. There must be more to him.’
    ‘Doesn’t need to work, probably,’ answered Carter.
    ‘Daddy’s money. Maybe this was his do-gooder phase, a project. Maybe Mummy says he needs to find out about the real world.’
    ‘But it’s a strange choice of project. It’s hard work. It must have something to do with the religious aspect. He didn’t stop smiling.’
    ‘Smug.’
    ‘He looked like he was but I’m not sure.’
    ‘We need to find out about him and the church,’ said Carter.
    ‘It’s things like – I would have thought he’d know his regulars; he’d make it his business to know them. He must get out and walk around the area,’ Willis
added. ‘But he said he didn’t know them.’
    ‘Maybe he gets a taxi back to Knightsbridge every evening.’
    Carter looked in his side mirror and saw Simon jogging across to them. ‘Hello? Talk of the devil,’ he said under his breath.
    He wound down his window. ‘What can we help you with, Mr Smith?’
    ‘Sorry, I realized I must have come across as unhelpful. Look – I want to help. But it’s difficult for me. I’m not only the warden here – I’m a
minister.’ He looked at each of them in turn, waiting for a reaction. He got a look of begrudging respect from Carter, who had had a broadly Catholic upbringing: dragged to church