‘Why are you doing that?’

‘Doing what?’

‘Why are you straightening out those paper clips?’

‘Am I?’

Detective Chief Inspector Donald May looked down at the slim silver lines on the coffee table.

‘Are you sad?’

May stroked his son’s head.

‘Don’t be. It will be OK. Honest’.

‘I know, Commander Frederick May of the Yard’.   

May laughed.

‘Why are you laughing, Dad?’

‘I should have put you in charge right at the start of this investigation, Frederick the Great. You were right about the tunnels. I didn’t believe you, and you were right. A woman called Pauline Philbey came to see me at the station recently. She...

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