He glanced out of his office window and the summer sky over London that morning as he let the phone ring twice before he picked it up leisurely. ‘Detective Inspector Vicary, Murder and Serious Crime Unit,’ he said in a calm voice. ‘Lady on the phone for you, sir; lady member of the public.’ The voice of the switchboard operator had a nervous tone to it, and Vicary thought he was probably newly appointed. ‘She is responding to the E-fits printed in today’s Standard. She says that she thinks she knows the two men.’ ‘I see.’ Vicary reached instinctively for his notepad and pen. ‘Put her through, please.’ The line clicked and a querulous female voice said, ‘Hello?’ ‘DI Vicary.’ ‘I may know the men in today’s paper, in the Standard.’ ‘Oh, yes?’ ‘Yes. Would one of them have a scar on his cheek? He said he was attacked when he was in prison, you see.’ Vicary smiled to himself. ‘Well, madam, the prints, the images in the paper, are E-fits; they are only an impression of what they might have looked like.
