That was another source of irritation: DC Philippa Gallagher, known as Pip, also as Flippa, on temporary rotation through the team, for whom Kathy was supposed to be acting as mentor. Too pretty and fragile-looking to be a police officer, Pip seemed oblivious to the stares of the male members of the team. She was very eager and had an annoying habit of asking questions to which Kathy didn’t know the answers, then staring with wide-eyed attentiveness as Kathy tried to improvise a reply. It was probably the same look she’d given her teachers in the school she hardly seemed old enough to have left.

But when Kathy stepped out into the fresh air, her mood lifted. It was a beautiful day, sunlight glittering on the golden figure of Justice on top of the dome of the Old Bailey against a brilliant blue sky. She made her way through the knots of the usual suspects huddled along the footpath and bought a coffee across the road, then stood in the sun, waiting, wondering what Brock’s favourite pathologist was in a panic about.

By the time the unmarked car slid to a stop at the kerb in front of her she felt ready even for DC Gallagher.

‘Hi, boss!’

As a sergeant Kathy had occasionally been called ‘skip’, but no one had ever called her ‘boss’ before. She rather liked it. The girl gave her a big grin, and Kathy smiled back; maybe she’d been unfair to her. Pip was so keen, and Kathy had a sudden vivid memory of herself on her first murder case after making sergeant. That was when she’d first met Brock, and, come to think of it, Sundeep Mehta. It seemed a long time ago.

When they arrived at the mortuary they saw the little doctor waiting for them by the front desk, chatting up the receptionist with a kind of extravagant bonhomie that Kathy thought, as she caught sight of him, looked rather forced. The woman turned away to answer a phone call, Sundeep frowned, glanced furtively at his watch, then wheeled around to see Kathy and Pip approaching. He brightened, slipping on the cavalier persona he liked people to see.