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puffed contentedly on his pipe. Well into his seventies, he had a weather-beaten face and a shrunken body but he remained unduly spry for his age. Curled up in his lap, basking in the afternoon sunshine, was a mangy black cat. When he saw three figures walking towards him along the towpath, Micah stood up suddenly and catapulted the animal on to the deck. With a squeal of protest, the cat took refuge beneath the sail.
    ‘Mr Triggs?’ asked Colbeck as they got near. ‘Mr Micah Triggs?’
    ‘The same,’ grunted the old man.
    Colbeck introduced himself and his companions, Victor Leeming and Walter Praine. He explained that he was leading the investigation into the murder and thanked Micah for the witness statement that he had given.
    ‘If you work on a barge,’ said Micah, shifting his pipe to the other side of his mouth, ‘you fish all sorts of odd things out of the canal but this is the first time we found the dead body of a man.’
    ‘Your son and grandson were with you, I believe.’
    ‘Yes, Inspector – Enoch and Sam.’
    ‘How tall would your son be?’
    ‘That’s a strange question. Why do you ask it?’
    ‘Curiosity, Mr Triggs. Would he be around your height?’
    ‘No,’ replied Micah. ‘Enoch is a good foot taller than me and twice as broad. Sam is shorter and has more of my build.’
    ‘Then it’s your grandson we need to speak to, sir,’ said Colbeck, glancing around. ‘Where might we find him?’
    ‘What business do you have with Sam?’
    ‘We just want to clarify something in his statement.’
    Micah was suspicious. ‘It takes three of you to do that?’
    ‘I think I know where he might be, Inspector,’ said Constable Praine, sensing that they would get little help from the old man. ‘Most of the bargees spend their spare time in the Traveller’s Rest.’ He pointed to the inn further along the towpath. ‘My guess is that he and his father will be in there.’
    ‘Shall I roust them out, sir?’ volunteered Leeming.
    ‘No, Victor,’ replied Colbeck. ‘This is a job for Constable Praine, I think. And no rousting out is required. The only person we need is Samuel Triggs. He sounds as if he’d be the right size. Constable.’
    ‘Yes, Inspector?’ said Praine.
    ‘Invite him, very politely, to come and talk to me.’
    ‘I will, sir.’
    Pleased with his assignment, Praine went off willingly towards the inn. On the journey there, Colbeck had questioned him closely about the Liverpool Constabulary and, in the course of describing activities at the central police station, the constable had let slip the information that he had conceived a romantic interest in Heyford’s daughter. Since Praine was too frightened of the inspector to pursue it any further, Colbeck hoped that he could put in a good word for the young lover by praising his conduct as a policeman. It was the reason he had dispatched Walter Praine to the Traveller’s Rest.
    ‘What’s going on?’ said Micah, warily.
    ‘You tell us, sir,’ suggested Colbeck.
    ‘We’ve done nothing wrong. We helped you.’
    ‘That’s true, Mr Triggs, and we were grateful. But another witness has come forward and his statement contradicts all three that were made on the Red Rose .’
    Micah became aggressive. ‘Is someone calling me a liar?’
    ‘Not at all.’
    ‘I told those policemen exactly what I saw.’
    ‘I’m sure, sir.’
    Colbeck looked around the barge. Sailing along the canal, the Red Rose had a certain grace about it. Close to, however, its defects were glaringly obvious. It was old, dirty and neglected. The sail had been repaired in several places and some of the planks in its deck were badly splintered. Also, it stank. Micah could read his mind.
    ‘It’s not my fault,’ he said, bitterly. ‘I can’t afford a new barge. There’s not the same money in the canal any more. That bleeding railway is to blame. It’s took lots of our trade away from us. And what has it given us in return – a bleeding