Lemmy accepted this task amicably, without the resentment that most aspiring detectives would have shown. Carmichael barely noticed. With the constable out of the way, he went off in search of O’Leary, only to find that Inspector Hollings had apparently laid claim to his own subordinate today, and had sent O’Leary off to investigate the Pennycook murder down in Walworth. “And Hollings may be right at that,” said Carmichael to himself. He paused thoughtfully, frowning. He had, during the course of yesterday, glanced over both the Pennycook case file and the report O’Leary had prepared on his conversation at the pub with Gibbons. But he found that he remembered little about either today. He was quite put out with himself. “Old man,” he muttered. “Can’t do without sleep anymore. Useless, that’s what you are. Bloody useless.” He tramped into his office and found both files shoved to one side of his desk, where he vaguely remembered placing them when he had begun to feel another moment reading in his chair would put him to sleep.
