He had forgotten he had asked to test for this and stuffed the note in the case file. He smoked and studied the cracks in the ceiling; nothing was going well. A full stop on the murdered girls, a complete blank on the serial killer of the toms. He considered phoning Belton Division to see if they had any luck with Big Bertha, but decided would have contacted him if they had. The antique skeleton was simmering, but he doubted if; they would get anywhere after all this time. He hated inactivity. He wanted to dash out and do something, even if it was pointless. A tagged key was by his blotter. Puzzled, he checked the label. Of course, the key to Weaver's house, returned to him after they had tried to find damned toilet rolls. He shuddered. The thought he might have driven an innocent man to suicide him go cold. He hooked the key on to his key ring to make sure he didn't lose it. The internal phone buzzed.
