“So you went for cigarettes.” Reg Makepeace leaned over the desk, bringing his face close to Rodney Beckinsale’s. “To the off-licence. Took you a long time, didn’t it?”

Rod slouched in his chair, arms folded.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” he snapped. “I bumped into some mates. We went for a swift half.”

“While Joy Davies was being attacked,” Dave Wilson said quietly. “Abducted. Possibly murdered.”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” Rod said, louder. “She was gone when I got back. I was the one who reported her missing, for God’s sake.”

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we, Rod?” Reg said, wearily.

“Please,” Rod said. “Not that...

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