“What murder enquiry?” Parnell asked as Greenaway walked him to his car. “What you talking about? You must have run out of ideas, picking on me.” Scores of children playing amongst the debris at the end of the market day stopped their games and stared at the pair of them, round eyes in mucky faces reflecting a mixture of curiosity and awe. The one little sentinel Greenaway had singled out to keep an eye on the motor for him was still at his post, standing guard like a good soldier. Greenaway ruffled his curly head and slipped him a shilling. “Well done, son,” he said. “Come and see me when you’re out of short trousers, I’ll make a good copper of you yet.” “Wow!” The boy eyed his bounty with delight. Parnell gave him a venomous stare. “That’s all bogeys are about, you know, bribing off decent folk,” he hissed. “You want to watch yourself, sonny Jim.” “Up yours!” the child replied, sticking two fingers up and running away, laughing. Greenaway afforded himself a chuckle.
