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to introduce Jane. “Jane, this is Marianne.”
    “Hi, nice to meet you, it’s good of you to have Joey.”
    “Oh, that’s OK, nice to meet you.” She bent down to the little boy, who still clung to his father’s legs. “And you must be Joey? You know what we’ve got? Fish fingers, do you like fish fingers?”
    “What else have you got?”
    “Chocolate cake, you want some? Yes? Come on, then, let me show you the kitchen.”
    She held out a hand to Joey, who shied away at first, but then he edged forward and gripped her hand tightly. “I got a new Revenge of the Joker mask!” he confided.
    “Have you? Is that from Batman, then?”
    Joey nodded. Anxious to get away from Marianne’s critical gaze, Jane smiled and said, “Would you like a drink, Marianne?”
    “No, Steve is waiting . . .”
    Duty done, Jane and Joey scuttled into the kitchen, but Jane could hear every word through the thin door. She showed Joey the cake box, opened it and reached into the top cupboard for a plate.
    Marianne smiled and tossed her streaked, blond hair back. She leaned confidentially towards Pete.
    “Pete, I’m pregnant.” She gave him a long, direct look.
    Peter swallowed. “It’s not . . .” He glanced nervously toward the kitchen.
    “Who knows? Anyway, I really appreciate this. You know what I was like in the early stages with Joey, I’m so sick every morning, awful.”
    He pulled himself together. “You look OK!”
    “Well, it’s all show. Underneath this I’m white as a sheet and getting hideously fat.” She wasn’t; as far as Peter could recall she hadn’t even put on much weight with Joey. Marianne went on, “She’s not at all what I expected! Is it working out?”
    He nodded, and glanced again towards the kitchen door. “You’d better go, I don’t want him getting upset.”
    “Oh, he’s fine, and I should say goodbye to . . . what’s her name?”
    “Jane.” Again Peter looked towards the kitchen door. “Jane! Marianne’s leaving!”
    The partly defrosted cake was halfway to the plate when it slipped off the bread knife and back into the box, showering Jane in the process. Peter opened the door to see her covered in chocolate and cream, trying in vain to wipe it off with a tea towel.
    “Bit of an accident! Good to meet you, Marianne, hope you have a nice dance.”
    “Oh, it’s not a dance, just a small dinner party.”
    Jane covered her astonishment with a smile. If she had got herself done up in a dress as glitzy as that, it would have been for a ball at the very least.
    Joey kissed his mother, apparently unperturbed at her leaving, then ran back to the kitchen to stick his fingers in the blobs of chocolate and lick them.
    As the door closed behind Marianne, Jane cocked her head to one side. “So I wasn’t what she expected, huh? Next time I’ll borrow a WPC’s hat!”
    There was a crash from the kitchen as the entire chocolate cake, box and all, fell to the floor. Joey looked crestfallen, expecting to be punished, but Jane just looked at the mess on the floor and handed Joey a spoon.
    “OK, let’s have tea!”
    It was eleven thirty when Shefford completed his interrogation of George Marlow. He discussed the results briefly with Arnold Upcher; he was sure he had enough evidence to charge Marlow. Upcher, tired himself, pursed his lips and gave a small shrug.
    “Then if you feel you have the evidence, Inspector, there is little I can do. But he’s been here since early afternoon, that means you’ve got twenty-four hours. You will, of course, inform me if you go for extra time?”
    Shefford was confident that he could charge Marlow without having to present all his evidence to a magistrate and beg for the statutory three days’ delay to consolidate his case, or “three-day lay-down”, as it was known. Exhausted though he was, and a little punchy, he was still going strong. His main concern was to get the statements transcribed from the tapes.
    Upcher, needing time to review