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Simpson's gaunt face was expressionless. 'You knew about this, Fred?'

'I knew it went on.'

'How come you didn't mention it?'

'I didn't think it was relevant to anything.'

Simpson smiled faintly. 'You're really going to piss me off if you keep on trying to think, Fred.'

The supervisor bristled. 'I was trying to keep it simple. It's in everybody's interest to keep it simple. You don't want the press all over this, Bob.'

'Do I not?' Simpson asked. 'Why is that?'

'Trust me, you're going to be a very unpopular copper round here if that happens.'

Simpson affected a puzzled expression. And why would that bother me?'

'The university's important, you know it is. You of all people know it is.'

Simpson put the coffee mug down on the desk and nodded to himself. 'Tell you what, Fred. I think you'd better come down to the station for a bit of a chat. There are fewer distractions in an interview room I find.'

'What? What are you talking about?'

'Now if you don't mind,' Simpson said flatly. 'On your feet.'

The supervisor looked uncertain. 'You are joking right?'

Simpson shook his head. 'I don't like your attitude. I think you're withholding evidence. I think you might even be trying to pervert the course of justice.'

'Me? Don't be stupid this is me. I wouldn't do anything like that. You know I wouldn't do anything like that.'

'You keep telling me what it is I know,' Simpson remarked. 'But you're still not telling me what it is you know.'

"This is me, Bob. We've got history. We're family.'

You can come voluntarily or I can nick you if you'd prefer. I wouldn't want anyone to think you were getting special treatment just because you're married to my sister.'

'We've always had a good working relationship.'

'No we haven't.'

The supervisor glanced at Bartok, who was looking on with open enjoyment, and then leant forward towards Simpson and lowered his voice.

"That's why they reckon me in this place. They like the links.'

'There are no links, Fred.'

'Come on, Bob, you can't do this to me. You'll make me look like a stupid prat.'

'If you've been misleading your employers,' Simpson said, 'that's their problem. My problem is I'm not having the bouncer looking to mess me about.'

'Is that what you think I am? A bouncer?'

What would you prefer? Door security?'

The supervisor looked crushed. 'You bastard, Bob,' he said quietly. 'You miserable bastard.'

'So we're going to start again,' Simpson said. 'I want you to sit there and I want you to remember everything you know about this girl, about this Joan Cox, and about what went on prior to her death. And when you've got it all remembered you're going to tell it all to me. All of it, Fred. Not just what you think it is I need to know.' He looked at his watch. I'll be back in half an hour.' He gestured for Bartok to follow him out. Don't go anywhere in the meantime.'

As they walked outside into the gathering dusk Bartok said, 'Don't leave town, pilgrim,' in a passable imitation of John Wayne.

'Give over, Martin,' Simpson said tiredly. 'My sister's going to put me through all kinds of hell for that.'

'Sorry, guv.'

'And don't call me "guv". I've told you before, we're the swedey not the sweeny'

'Sorry, guv - boss - Sarge. Sorry, Sarge. Where are we going?'

'Nowhere. I want a cigarette that's all.'

Bartok looked about him. I think this whole area is no smoking,' he said dubiously.

Simpson lit up without bothering to argue with him. And what were you looking so chuffed about in there?'

Bartok coughed pointedly and moved upwind of the smoke before saying, 'I didn't think I should interrupt you and your brother-in-law, so I never got the chance to tell you, Sarge. It gets worse. It gets messier and sillier.'

'Spit it out, Constable.'

'They've got a department of it here.'

'A department of what?'

'A department of the occult.' Bartok's expression was a mixture of amazement and amused contempt. 'They've got a department