Tony Francis picked up the theory. “And, if the killer was expecting Dickson, it’s a safe bet he knew his name, if not his face. And, as you suggest, it’s a safe bet he knew he was coming here to see you.”
Chap leaned back in his chair and smiled across the desk at his partner. “Good Lord! I do believe the lad’s got it at last. We’ll make an investigator out of you yet.”
“Prick!” Francis laughed.
A uniformed patrol officer approached the desk and spoke to Chap. “Sergeant Bouttell?”
“That’s me,” Chap confirmed.
The officer held out some papers. “These just arrived for you.”
“Cheers, mate, thanks.” Chap took them and watched as the officer left the room.
“What have we got?” Francis asked.
Chap read quickly through the pages. “Fingerprint results,” he answered. “It says here, Dickson
