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“No”

“Did you recognize the voice?” asked Cragg

“No”

As Cragg was about to ask another question, the station phone rang

“Bloody hell,” said Cragg “Notend to the shift, is there?”

He answered after the third ring Before he could say anything, a concerned voice spoke

“Is that the Bramfield Police Station?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Cragg “How can I help you?”

“It’s me that can help you I live in the town, in a flat above one of the shops at the back of the Market Square, on Spital Street opposite Are’s”

“The hardware store?”

“That’s the one”

“Can you tell me your name, sir?”

“Jones, Richard Jones”

“What about the hardware store?”

“Well, it’s three o’clock in the ht on in the shop”

“I appreciate your concern, Mr Jones,” replied Cragg, who knew Richard Jones pretty well; he worked nights at the furniture warehouse a couple of miles outside the tohic

h would explain why he was still up “Maybe old Are can’t sleep”

“Maybe he can’t, but he’s hardly likely to leave the front door wide open, whatever he’s doing”

Chapter Two

Alex Wilson ake, of that he was sure

But it was hard to tell because he couldn’t see a thing Wherever he was, it was pitch black He’d often heard the saying, and had also been in circu black like it was now