‘Flat here in London, country house in Hampshire where the little wife lives most of the time with the baby. While the cat’s away, the mice play.’

‘Wonder what the mistress will be like?’

‘Classy,’ guessed Rodgers. ‘Lomax was loaded. He could afford the best.’ He looked needlessly at a notebook. ‘This is the second wife. Name’s Jennifer. Worked in the firm to begin with. Brilliant, from what they said down there. First wife, Jane, died of an overdose.’

Bentley turned hopefully from looking down at the trading floor. ‘Anything suspicious?’

The inspector shook his head. ‘She was a diabetic. It was an insulin imbalance, according to what they’re saying.’

‘Was Lomax having an affair with this one while the first wife was alive?’

‘For almost a year, apparently.’

‘So he made a habit of it?’

‘Seems that way: lucky bugger.’

From the doorway Billington said, ‘We’re through with the body. Can we get it out of the way?’

A uniformed policeman further along the corridor looked enquiringly at Bentley, who nodded and said, ‘Please.’ The policeman, glad of something to do, began talking into his radio.

‘She said anything?’ asked Rodgers.

‘She’s in shock, according to the paramedic. She’ll know who the other woman is. We might as well go and find out.’

Both men were keen rugby fans and on the drive along the Embankment the conversation was about that Saturday’s international between England and Wales. Both had tickets. Rodgers, whose mother had been born in Swansea, offered a?5 bet on Wales, which Bentley took. They gambled between each other a lot. Bentley usually won.

‘If this had been a difficult one it could have buggered Saturday up,’ suggested Rodgers, putting their Scotland Yard identification on the dashboard as he parked in a consultant’s reserved space.

Jennifer was in a single ward. One of the policewomen outside the room rose at their approach and said, ‘They did the stitching under local anaesthetic. And the doctor insists there’s no shock. They’re happy for her to be interviewed.’