‘Because of their bust up,’ Crane cut him off. ‘I wondered why there was a bust up. Well, it was because Greenwood also believed Mahon had seen off Donna.’ Crane filled him in on the rest.

There was a longer silence. Then, ‘Bugger!’

‘Come again?’

‘I should have seen that. But even if I had I’d never have thought Greenwood would grass him.’

‘I got lucky. Patsy filled me in on his going straight. He’d had a bellyful of being in trouble with the law. It gave me a lever. I also promised him I’d keep his name out of anything.’

Another silence and then Anderson said, ‘I knew you were good, Frank, but there was no need to rub my nose in it.’

He spoke lightly and Crane knew he’d be grinning, but he also knew that Anderson’s professional pride had had a hole kicked through it. This gave him a small smile of his own. He’d got one over on the whiz kid who’d lived with the case since the body had left the water. At the same time, it had gone against all his own professional instincts to let the information on Greenwood go. He just didn’t work that way. Other people could be a distraction, especially a clever reporter who, according to Carol at the Glass-house, had a compulsion to take over and run things. But he had to keep reminding himself that Anderson’s brain was stocked with information about the Donna Jackson affair that could take Crane many hours to assemble.

Anderson’s grin was wiped away as he cleared his phone. How could he have slipped up on a detail like that? He’d been convinced he knew everything about everyone involved in Donna’s killing? Why hadn’t he checked out Greenwood himself: Why had he assumed that none of Mahon’s mates would ever go straight? What else was Crane going to pick up on? He had to know, and know as it was happening, to be able to make that final award-winning feature absolutely authentic, apart from anything else. He wondered how he could get in closer with Crane. But then, why had a man who tended to be as close with information as he himself was, let go the details of Greenwood’s confession? Because Crane was forcing himself into a quid pro quo for what he knew. It gave him an idea and his grin began to return.

‘That was Geoff Anderson, Patsy. We’re pooling information, as he knows so much about the case, possibly even more than the police. He was a bit miffed about me getting ahead of him, thanks to you.’

‘He’s a good looking bloke, that Geoff. They must be queuing up to loofah his back. What will you do now? About Bobby?’

He shrugged. ‘I need to find a way of proving he wasn’t at home that night, without involving Cliff. It won’t be easy, but if I can I can hand it back to the police. If he wasn’t at home he’ll have to prove he wasn’t with Donna, and if he is guilty I don’t think he’ll be able to, the state he’s in just now.’

She sighed, her face in shadow, her hair back-lit in an untidy halo from one of the table lamps. ‘Poor Bobby, he’s been a silly beggar, but it does upset me to see him wandering round the Willows and everyone pretending he’s the Invisible Man. He’d never have done that to her, not Bobby, not if she hadn’t set out to upset him so badly he …’ The sentence dangled.

‘He could be trying to convince himself he hasn’t done it. Too much to cope with. I’ve known it happen. The mind’s a funny thing.’

‘He’s nothing like as bad as they paint him. It’s that crap home life. Fancy another drink?’

‘No, thanks all the same. With the driving …’

She nodded with a small fatalistic smile. Expecting nothing she was never going to be disappointed.

Crane put on his jacket, touched her arm. ‘Thanks for everything, Patsy, you knowing Cliff was going straight swung it for me. I hope you’ll go on helping me, if I need more information.’

She flushed again. ‘I’ll help any way I can. But all I really know is the Willows and the folk on it.’

‘Exactly. No one knows the place like you do.’

When he’d gone, Patsy thought what a great bloke he was. Tall, tough, nothing in the way of looks, but his manner … so polite. Opening car doors for you, praising you when you didn’t think you’d done anything much. She knew he didn’t like her hair, she could tell by the way he’d looked at it back at Mam’s that first time. It had made her angry, really angry. But later she’d thought, well, at least he’d looked. Men on the Willows couldn’t care less what she looked like, if they’d go out with her at all. All they were bothered about was getting her into bed, and they never seemed to think that was any big deal either. She gave herself another drink, looked at herself in a glass, wiped away a tear. If only she could get off with a bloke like Crane. If only she’d never had a sister like Donna …

Crane drove back to his house on Bentham Terrace, put away his Renault. As he left the garage, someone pinioned him from behind. Then someone else jumped in front of him and punched him in the belly. The man holding him had a grasp like a straitjacket, and though Crane kicked backwards he couldn’t locate either of his legs. The fist went into his belly again. Then again and again. Five or six times until his guts felt as if they’d burst into flames.

‘Let it go, mister,’ a soft hoarse voice whispered in his ear. ‘Donna Jackson. Otherwise, next time we’ve finished you’ll have the tooth fairy round. It’ll take her five minutes to pick ’em all up.’

Then they were off, running on soft-soled shoes to some car they’d have parked two streets away. Crane would have run after them except that he could barely walk, let alone run. He limped painfully to the back door, let himself in, slid gingerly down on to the kitchen tiles. He sat for ten minutes until the raging fire in his insides had settled to a steady burn. Then he levered himself up. He’d lie in a hot bath, smooth something on to ease the pain. At least it hadn’t been blows to the head, which could be very bad news, as he knew from his police days.

His mobile rang. ‘Frank … Crane.’

‘It’s Ted. You all right? You sound funny.’

‘I’ve just had a kicking. Some scrotes telling me to lay off the Jackson case.’

‘Go on! How long ago was it? Want me to get a car round?’

‘Don’t bother, Ted. They’ll be long gone.’

‘Well, if you’re sure.’ He was silent for a short time. ‘Thing is, you needn’t have had it, the kicking. This Mahon. He walked in the station late afternoon. Admitted to topping her. Put his hand up to the lot.’

FOUR

‘It would have saved us such a lot of heartache if he’d owned up right at the start.’ Connie wiped away tears. ‘We couldn’t begin to cope with it in the first place, our lovely girl … but to have him swaggering round the Willows, giving out it had nothing to do with him …’

‘Oh, Mam.’ Patsy put a hand on her arm. ‘He didn’t swagger, you know he didn’t, not with folks turning their backs on him, pretending he wasn’t there. He knew what a terrible thing he’d done, knew as well as we did. He couldn’t have meant to do it.’

‘Won’t bring her back though!’ Malc broke out, face crumpled in grief. ‘Whether he meant it or not. I’d see the bugger hang. It’s only a pity they ever done away with it. He’ll be out in his thirties, they don’t even serve a proper sentence these days. I’d see the bugger hang.’ He put hands over his face and began to sob.

‘Malc, love, don’t take on …’

Crane could detect both sadness and exasperation in Patsy’s glance. She’d have to go through it all again and she’d already had too much, even though she’d loved Donna too – when she wasn’t bitterly envying her her glamour.

‘We don’t know how to thank you, Frank,’ Connie said in a tremulous tone. ‘I can’t think what you did.’

‘Not a lot, Connie, to be honest,’ Crane said, putting a hand over hers. ‘He was in a state when Geoff and I talked to him. We could see it was all beginning to get on top of him, the way people on the Willows were treating him. And then Geoff telling him you’d set me on to make a fresh start and that I didn’t give in too easily …’