Echo

'What on earth for?' asked Deacon.

'The old Bill aren't allowed to go poking round people's private things just when they fancy it.'

'Well, I've no objection at all to them looking at my room, but if you've got a problem-' He broke off with a shrug.

' 'Course I ain't got a problem,' said Terry crossly.

'Then what are you bellyaching about?' Deacon stood up. 'This way, gentlemen.'

The two sergeants accepted a cup of coffee and relaxed enough to join Deacon and Terry in a smoke. 'Terry fits the description of a youth seen running from the scene after the incident,' Harrison told them.

'So do a million others,' said Deacon.

'How would you know, sir?'

'We heard the description on the radio.'

'I thought you might have done. May I ask who alerted you?'

'My solicitor, Lawrence Greenhill,' said Deacon. 'He heard the bulletin and warned us to expect a visit from you.'

'So you were lying when you said you were visiting your mother?'

'No. We'll be leaving as soon as you've gone, but I will admit we were woken rather earlier than I'd intended. If you hang around my alarm will go off in approximately'-he consulted his watch-'thirty minutes.'

'When do you expect to be back?'

'This evening.'

'And you're happy for us to check your story with Barry Grover and the taxi driver?''

'Be our guests,' said Deacon. 'You can do more. Check that we were in the Lame Beggar until ten-thirty, and then at Carlo's in Farringdon Street until one in the morning when we were finally thrown out.'

'Your mother's address please, sir.'

'I don't want to see your mother,' said Terry morosely, hunched in the corner of the passenger seat as they set off for the Ml after collecting Deacon's car from The Street parking lot following yet another taxi ride, 'and she won't want to see me.'

'She probably won't want to see me, either,' murmured Deacon, calculating that he'd shelled out a fortune in incidental expenses since Terry had moved in. He was coming to the conclusion that teenagers cost more than wives. Terry's appetite alone-he'd eaten enough breakfast to sink a battleship-would beggar most people.

'Then why are we going?'

'Because it seemed like a good idea when I first thought of it.'

'Yeah, but that was just an excuse for the old Bill.'

'It's good for the soul to do something you don't want to do.'

'Billy used to say that.'

'Billy was a wise man.'

'No, he weren't. He were a bloody pillock. I've been thinking about it, and d'you know what I reckon? I reckon he never starved himself to death at all but let someone else do it for him. And if that ain't stupid, I don't know what is.'

Deacon glanced at him. 'How could someone else do it for him?''

'By keeping him permanently pissed so he didn't think to eat. See, food were only important to him when he was sober-like when he were in the nick-otherwise he'd forget that it's eating that keeps you alive.'

'Are you saying someone kept him supplied with booze for four weeks so that he'd drink himself to death?'

'Yeah. I mean it's the only thing that makes sense, isn't it? How else could he've stayed rat-arsed long enough to starve? He couldn't've bought the sodding stuff because he didn't have no money, and if he'd been sober he'd've come back to the warehouse. Like I said, he used to bugger off from time to time, but he always came back when the booze ran out and he started to get hungry again.'

DS Harrison had rung the bell of the Gravers' terraced house in Camden several times before it opened a crack and Barry's sweaty face peered through it. 'Mr. Grover?' he asked.

He nodded.

'DS Harrison, sir, Isle of Dogs police station. May I come in?'

'Why?'

'I'd like to ask you a few questions about Michael Deacon and Terry Dalton.'

'What have they done?'

'I'd rather discuss this inside, sir.'

'I'm not dressed.'

'It'll only take a minute.'

There was a pause before the security chain rattled and Barry opened the door wide. 'My mother's asleep,' he whispered. 'You'd better come in here.' He opened the door of the front parlor, then closed it quietly behind