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working …’ Here she dropped her gaze and mumbled, ‘… on the streets in order not to starve. That was where Bob found me. I think he loved me, or if I’m honest, lusted after me to begin with and of course there was security for me – this business and a home. And now I might be found and deported as an illegal immigrant!’
    â€˜Did you go through an official marriage ceremony with this man?’ I enquired.
    â€˜No, I was what you call a common-law wife over here.’
    I explained that I did not know enough about the law to be able to help her with this but could put her in touch with people who did. But, as I had anticipated, she wanted nothing to do with officialdom in any shape or form.
    â€˜Can’t you tell me anything at all about these criminals Bob was involved with?’ I asked, preparing to leave.
    â€˜Sorry, no, nothing. It’s really best for me not to know.’

THREE
    â€˜W hat sort of handgun did this woman have?’ Patrick asked.
    â€˜I’m not sure as I only caught a glimpse of it. Possibly a Beretta of some kind.’
    â€˜Imported in pieces from China and assembled here, no doubt. We need to do some research on her husband.’
    I reminded him that he had been given another job.
    â€˜But we don’t want to just hand this on a plate to the Met, do we?’ His gaze focussed on me. ‘Do we?’
    â€˜At the risk of becoming tedious …’
    Patrick sighed. ‘OK, I’m supposed to be working on something else.’
    â€˜I have a suggestion.’
    â€˜Which is?’
    â€˜You get on with what Greenway told you to do, I write a report on my interview with the woman and, you having read the full account of what was said so you’re fully briefed, I then put it in Greenway’s in-tray without further comment.’
    â€˜Fine – if you think it’ll achieve anything.’
    The commander phoned me the next day. ‘Thanks for that, Ingrid. We’ll leave it on file now I’ve sent a copy to the Met – I don’t know what she told them but it never hurts to cooperate. I think you already know that I simply don’t buy the theory that I was the one in the firing line in this shooting and from what she said I would guess that her missing man had stirred up some mobsters who don’t, for some reason, yet know he’s presumed dead.’
    â€˜But your name must be on reports into investigations into private investigators obtaining information from corrupt police officers.’
    â€˜Along with dozens of others. If more evidence comes along to strengthen that idea I’ll take another look at it. Meanwhile, if you want to go home please do so as Patrick’s going to be tied up with this mostly desk job for a while.’
    Roger and out, I thought, having achieved absolutely nothing.
    There was no reason to leave the car in London, besides which I would need it, so I collected my things from the hotel and set off for Somerset, in no mood to stay in the city now, book research or not. I could not remember the last time I had felt sorry for Patrick other than when he had been hurt in some way. Greenway’s instructions to him had been more, to quote my husband, ‘pithy and to the point’. A little sympathy is due to Greenway here, too, as Patrick has always been a loose cannon, the commander having been told by Richard Daws, our one-time boss in MI5 and now in some unspecified, and possibly secret, senior position in SOCA, that it would take fifteen years off his life if he had us around.
    Having dealt with domestic matters for a few days and taken the four older children on outings – it was half-term – I suddenly remembered the meeting with Carrick that had never happened. Acting on a whim is never a bad idea and after breakfast the next morning, Friday, I drove into Bath. It was pouring with rain and very windy, petals from the battered floral displays