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not wish to show his face properly, or to offer any greeting, in case this caused me to stop and perhaps signal that he should open the window for a conversation. He might be expecting questions as to his intentions, or even a rebuke. I did not find his behaviour reassuring. It, of course, occurred to me that he might be what is called, I believe, ‘casing’ the district for future break-ins – or about to attempt a break-in there and then. I decided that on my return I must memorize the Volvo’s registration number, which would be possible without having to pause and so alert the driver. I continued my walk.
    Shortly afterwards, I thought I heard the running feet of more than one person. Then came angry shouting, all male, and maybe there was the sound of a struggle – shoes impacting heavily on the ground, and perhaps a degree of breathlessness in the shouting. I could make out some words. I think a man yelled, ‘He’s not coming I tell you. He’s not coming. Never.’ After a minute or so I heard a vehicle’s engine start behind me, most probably the Volvo’s, and then the slamming of two car doors. I deduced from this that two or three people had entered the Volvo, depending on whether two or one used the same rear door on the pavement side to get into the car, plus one into the passenger seat. I heard the car pull away in what seemed a rush. When I and the dog came back from our stroll, the Volvo had gone. I had therefore lost the chance to note the car’s registration number. I can only say that it appeared to be a quite new model and not the anti-stylish, boxy type. It appeared that the car had waited at this agreed point to pick up the people I’d heard running, and then leave. But there appeared to have been some kind of dispute, which I cannot explain.
    An odd factor – or in my view, at least, an odd factor – was that as I neared the site of where the Volvo had been I could see ahead of me the man I think had been in the driver’s seat originally. I recognized – think I recognized – the green cardigan. The dog barked, having also spotted this figure in the dark and perhaps wanting to alert me. The noise caused the man to look back, and then he seemed to increase his walking speed and soon disappeared.
    The Volvo turned out to have been lifted from a municipal car park earlier in October. The vehicle’s registration number wouldn’t have disclosed anything about the driver and his companions, even if Mr Marchant had managed to get, memorize and report it. Harpur wanted to believe him when Marchant said he wasn’t interested in an ogle and objected to the night use of the area for car sex. People did get upset by lovers at it in parked cars close to their homes. Harpur couldn’t altogether understand this, unless it was envy. The couples in the cars would be reasonably quiet and self-focused. Iles had a framed cartoon from an ancient copy of some American magazine, showing a man and woman leaving their car and carrying the back seat into the woods. The ACC would normally keep this in a drawer out of sight, but during that longish period when he was trying to drive the previous Chief Constable, Mark Lane, off his head, he’d take down the portrait of the Home Secretary in his suite and replace it with the cartoon, if he knew Lane was about to look in on him. Iles liked the multi-use of cars himself; would speak of it to Harpur sometimes. He’d said once, ‘Col, think how this can bring humanity to what is otherwise nothing but a banal metal box with mirrors.’
    â€˜As you’ll know, that’s the exact wording of the Oxford Dictionary definition of a car, sir,’ Harpur had replied. ‘“A banal metal box with mirrors.” Or might it be “
extremely
” banal.’

FOUR
    AFTER
    H arpur went now to the police record of ‘Interview One’ with a member of the Volvo team that night: