Marcus Harding and Harry Rawlings were conducting house to house enquiries along Matlock Street, Harry on the north side, Marcus on the other.
Just about the last thing Horace Sutton told Harding was that he thought Starling sometimes ‘roomed’ on Matlock Street, but could not say which house.
Marcus now knocked at number 43.
It was at least a minute before the door was opened a few inches, Marcus had knocked 3 times and was about to give up when the door finally did open. A woman with a face screwed up with displeasure peered out at him, it was a face that said in all things she was right and would tolerate no contradictions to her opinions or sense of self-righteousness.
‘Yes,’ she demanded, ‘If you’re selling door to door, you can clear off. I’ve been watching you, you and that other
