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value from the twenty minutes they spent with Annie Lees. The old lady was showing THE TUNNEL RATS 33 all the symptoms of Alzheimer's disease and seemed unable to concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time. Several times during the interview she wasn't even able to recall finding the body, and once she'd burst into tears. They left her with a uniformed policewoman and the remains of the fish and chips.
    'She needs to be in a home,' said Wright as they closed the door to the interview room.
    'Care in the community,' said Reid. 'Part of the cutbacks.'
    Wright shook his head sadly. 'She needs looking after. Her family should be taking care of her.'
    Reid snorted. 'Come off it, Nick. Who'd take care of you if you went crazy? Do you think your ex-wife would put you in the spare room? What about your son? He's what, seven? And even if he was older, kids don't take care of their parents any more. Those days went out with the village bobby and free school milk. It's every man for himself nowadays. Little old ladies like Annie Lees fall through the cracks and the cracks just get bigger and bigger.'
    'Yeah, well, isn't that a cheery thought?' said Wright.
    Reid clapped Wright on the back. 'Come on, old son, you're never going to reach retirement age anyway.'
    Wright shrugged him off. He didn't feel like laughing.
    They headed down the corridor towards the reception area. Gerry Hunter came out of an office, a large envelope in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. 'Any joy?' he asked.
    Reid shook his head. 'Nah. She thinks the world of you, though. Said she wanted to adopt you.'
    'What can I say? Must be my boyish charm.' He gave the envelope to Reid. 'Pathologist's report. She didn't know where to contact you.'
    'Tavistock Place,' said Wright.
    Hunter looked pained. 'I know that, but she didn't. She hasn't dealt with BTP before, so she called us to attend the post mortem. It was straightforward, nothing out of the ordinary.' He nodded his head towards the interview room. 'Do you need Annie for anything else?'
    'No, we're through with her,' said Reid. He tapped Wright on the shoulder with the envelope. 'Come on, Nick, let's go.'
    Hunter disappeared back into his office. Wright and Reid walked towards the door, but before they reached it, someone called out Wright's name. It was Clive Edmunds, his tie loosened and the tail of his shirt flapping over his trousers. He waved a sheet of paper at Wright as he walked towards them.
    'Thought this might help with your investigation,' he said, handing the paper to Wright. He walked quickly away and disappeared into a side office.
    Wright scanned the sheet. Across the top, in typed capital letters, were the words 'QUESTIONS TO ANSWER'. Underneath, in a single column, was a list of words. 'Who? When? How? Why?' Wright felt a surge of anger. *
    Reid read the list over Wright's shoulder and snorted. 'Ha bloody ha,' he said.
    Wright screwed the sheet of paper into a tight ball and threw it down the corridor. 'I bet Hunter put him up to it,' he said.
    'Nah, Edmunds is enough of a twat to have thought of it himself. Come on, forget about it. Do you want a drink?'
    Wright shook his head and reached for the envelope. 'You drink too much,' he said.
    'Yeah, well, you snore but you don't hear me complaining.'
    The duty sergeant unlocked the door for them. 'Where's the nearest pub, Reg?' asked Reid.
    'Bull's Head,' said the sergeant. 'Left, then first right.'
    The two detectives walked there. It was an old-fashioned public house with a smoke-stained plaster ceiling and a long wooden bar that had been varnished countless times and was now almost black. A shirtsleeved barman was pulling a rack of steaming glasses from a washing machine under the counter and nodded a greeting. 'Be with you in a minute, gents,' he said.
    'What do you want?' asked Reid, leaning nonchalantly against the bar.
    'I want to go back to the office,' said Wright, looking at his watch. . �
    'Don't be a party-pooper, Nick. We're