Royd Lane was not one of Wright Watson’s favourite places in Hartley. There was too much petty crime down that long row of terraces houses for his liking. The Detective Chief Inspector had lost count of the number of times he had urged the town council to have the whole area cleared. He had argued that either proper housing should then be built, or the occupants dispersed to other places round the borough, where they would not be able to do so much damage, whether to others or themselves. But all had been to no avail. The council could find the money for a town hall designed by the finest architects in the land, but there was never enough funding to take people out of the squalor and poverty that assailed the two detectives from both sides of Royd Lane. Watson could still remember the murder of one of hi...

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