Nobody spoke during the journey, and when they got to the station one of the local policemen pointed Bentley towards a free interview room. It was a bare place: grey metal desk, ashtray, three chairs. Bentley sat opposite Reed, and Inspector Rodmoor sat in a corner, out of his line of vision.

Bentley placed the folder he’d been carrying on the desk and smiled his funeral director’s smile. ‘Just a few further points, Terry. Hope I don’t have to keep you long.’

‘So do I,’ Reed said. ‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but shouldn’t I call my lawyer or something?’

‘Oh, I don’t think so. It isn’t as if we’ve charged you or anything. You’re simply helping us with our enquiries, aren’t you? Besides, do you actually have a solicitor? Most people don’t.’

Come to think of it, Reed didn’t have one. He knew one, though. Another old university friend had gone into law and practised nearby. Reed couldn’t remember what he specialized in.

‘Let me lay my cards on the table, as it were,’ Bentley said, spreading his hands on the desk. ‘You admit you were in Redditch last Friday evening to visit your friend. We’ve been in touch with him, by the way, and he verifies your story. What puzzles us is what you did between, say, four and eight-thirty. A number of people saw you at various times, but there’s at least an hour or more here and there that we can’t account for.’

‘I’ve already told you what I did.’

Bentley consulted the file he had set on the desk. ‘You ate at roughly six o’clock, is that right?’

‘About then, yes.’

‘So you walked around Redditch in the rain between five and six, and between six-thirty and seven? Hardly a pleasant aesthetic experience, I’d imagine.’

‘I told you, I was thinking things out. I looked in shops, got lost a couple of times…’

‘Did you happen to get lost in the vicinity of Simmons Street?’

‘I don’t know the street names.’

‘Of course. Not much of a street, really, more an alley. It runs by a number of disused warehouses-’

‘Now wait a minute! If you’re trying to tie me in to that girl’s murder, then you’re way off beam. Perhaps I had better call a solicitor, after all.’

‘Ah!’ said Bentley, glancing over at Rodmoor. ‘So you do read the papers?’

‘I did. After you left. Of course I did.’

‘But not before?’

‘I’d have known what you were on about, then, wouldn’t I? And while we’re on the subject, how the hell did you find out I was in Redditch that evening?’

‘You used your credit card in the Tandoori Palace,’ Bentley said. ‘The waiter remembered you and looked up his records.’

Reed slapped the desk. ‘There! That proves it. If I’d done what you seem to be accusing me of, I’d hardly have been as daft as to leave my calling card, would I?’

Bentley shrugged. ‘Criminals make mistakes, just like everybody else. Otherwise we’d never catch any. And I’m not accusing you of anything at the moment. You can see our problem, though, can’t you? Your story sounds thin, very thin.’

‘I can’t help that. It’s the truth.’

‘What state would you say you were in when you went into the Tandoori Palace?’

‘State?’

‘Yes. Your condition.’

Reed shrugged. ‘I was wet, I suppose. A bit fed up. I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Francis. Hungry, too.’

‘Would you say you appeared agitated?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘But someone who didn’t know you might just assume that you were?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe. I was out of breath.’

‘Oh? Why?’

‘We’ll I’d been walking around for a long time carrying my holdall. It was quite heavy.’

‘Yes, of course. So you were wet and breathless when you ate in the restaurant. What about the pub you went into just after seven o’clock?’

‘What about it?’

‘Did you remain seated long?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Did you just sit and sip your drink, have a nice rest after a heavy meal and a long walk?’

‘Well, I had to go the toilet, of course. And I tried phoning Francis a few more times.’

‘So you were up and down, a bit like a yo-yo, eh?’

‘But I had good reason! I was stranded. I desperately wanted to get in touch with my friend.’

‘Yes, of course. Cast your mind back a bit earlier in the afternoon. At about twenty past three, you asked a woman what time the schools came out.’

‘Yes. I… I couldn’t remember. Francis is a teacher, so naturally I wanted to know if I was early or late. It was starting to rain.’

‘But you’d visited him there before. You said so. He’d picked you up at the same place several times.’

‘I know. I just couldn’t remember if it was three o’clock or four. I know it sounds silly, but it’s true. Don’t you ever forget little things like that?’

‘So you asked the woman on the bridge? That was you?’

‘Yes. Look, I’d hardly have done that, would I, if… I mean… like with the credit card. I’d hardly have advertised my intentions if I was going to… you know…’

Bentley raised a beetle-black eyebrow. ‘Going to what, Terry?’

Reed ran his hands through his hair and rested his elbows on the desk. ‘It doesn’t matter. This is absurd. I’ve done nothing. I’m innocent.’

‘Don’t you find schoolgirls attractive?’ Bentley went on in a soft voice. ‘After all, it would only be natural, wouldn’t it? They can be real beauties at fifteen or sixteen, can’t they? Proper little temptresses, some of them, I’ll bet. Right prick-teasers. Just think about it – short skirts, bare legs, firm young tits. Doesn’t it excite you, Terry? Don’t you get hard just thinking about it?’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ Reed said tightly. ‘I’m not a pervert.’

Bentley laughed. ‘Nobody’s suggesting you are. It gets me going, I don’t mind admitting. Perfectly normal, I’d say, to find a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl sexy. My Methodist inspector might not agree, but you and I know different, Terry, don’t we? All that sweet innocence wrapped up in a soft, desirable young body. Doesn’t it just make your blood sing? And wouldn’t it be easy to get a bit carried away if she resisted, put your hands around her throat…?’

‘No!’ Reed said again, aware of his cheeks burning.

‘What about those women in the magazine, Terry? The one we found at your house?’

‘That’s different.’

‘Don’t tell me you buy it just for the stories.’

‘I didn’t say that. I’m normal. I like looking at naked women, just like any other man.’

‘Some of them seemed very young to me.’

‘For Christ’s sake, they’re models. They get paid for posing like that. I told you before, that magazine’s freely available. There’s nothing illegal about it.’ Reed glanced over his shoulder at Rodmoor, who kept his head bent impassively over his notebook.

‘And you like videos, too, don’t you? We’ve had a little talk with Mr Hakim in your corner shop. He told us about one video in particular you’ve rented lately. Soft porn, I suppose you’d call it. Nothing illegal, true, at least not yet, but a bit dodgy. I’d wonder about a bloke who watches stuff like that.’

‘It’s a free country. I’m a normal single male. I have a right to watch whatever kind of videos I want.’

‘School’s Out,’ Bentley said quietly. ‘A bit over the top, wouldn’t you say?’

‘But they weren’t real schoolgirls. The lead was thirty if she was a day. Besides, I only rented it out of curiosity. I thought it might be a bit of a laugh.’

‘And was it?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘But you see what I mean, don’t you? It looks bad: the subject-matter, the image. It all looks a bit odd. Fishy.’

‘Well it’s not. I’m perfectly innocent, and that’s the truth.’

Bentley stood up abruptly and Rodmoor slipped out of the room. ‘You can go now,’ the superintendent said. ‘It’s been nice to have a little chat.’

‘That’s it?’

‘For the moment, yes.’

‘But don’t leave town?’

Bentley laughed. ‘You really must give up those American cop shows. Though it’s a wonder you find time to watch them with all those naughty videos you rent. They warp your sense of reality – cop shows and sex films. Life isn’t like that at all.’