‘Very well,’ Munroe nodded to the WPC who left the room, obviously aware of what was required. ‘He’ll be here shortly.’
We spent the next fifteen minutes in silence, Munroe occasionally flicking through his papers but most of the time leaning back in his chair, staring fixedly at me, occasionally lowering his eyes to look at Liliad who returned his gaze with unblinking intensity. Eventually Munroe asked, ‘Would you put the doll down please?’
‘No, Inspector I won’t.’
Before he could argue, the Duty Solicitor and WPC entered. A squat man in his mid-fifties, his once smart suit did nothing to dispel the overall impression of general neglect as though he was harassed beyond caring. The whiskers on his face didn’t look like designer stubble either, rather that he hadn’t found time to shave.
