On the outskirts of Starly he was overtaken by an ambulance on blues and twos, a paramedic car driving very fast, and a police car, all of which were causing a backup of traffic. If it was an RTA the road would be closed and he would have to take the diversion which wound round the country lanes to get into the village from the far end, but after half a mile it was clear and he entered the square without a hold-up, parked in the side road and walked down to the shop. The pavements were no longer icy but the gutters were still rutted with dirty frozen snow, and as he stepped over it, Simon felt suddenly weary of this winter, of cold and sleet and skies like the inside of an aluminium saucepan. He longed for warmth on his face and the smell of the first spring flowers. Greece? Could he get out there, even just for a long weekend? He hesitated outside the chemist’s, basking in a bubble of sunshine and clear turquoise sea, before opening the shop door. The pharmacist had his back turned and spun round, startled when he heard the bell – more startled than he ought to be at the arrival of just another customer.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Wang.’

The man was trying to compose himself, smiling a brief, stiff little smile which came only from his mouth while his eyes were wide with alarm.

‘Detective Chief Superintendent –’

‘Yes. Yes, I know, I remember, and what do you want? There has been no trouble, no problem at all with anything since the . . . the very sad event of the young man in the flat . . . everything is all back to normal now. I am going to close soon, I have to get home.’

‘There’s nothing to be alarmed about, Mr Wang, I just need to give you an update. Maybe you can close the shop now and we can talk without risk of being interrupted?’

‘But it is not exactly closing time and a late customer may come in at any minute.’

‘I think we’ll risk that.’

Serrailler went to the door, dropped the latch and turned the sign to Closed.

‘Is there somewhere we can go to talk? I think you have a back room.’

Wang sighed. ‘We can go into the office.’

‘This is all very orderly, Mr Wang,’ Simon said as he looked around the tidy room.

‘It has to be. My storeroom is too . . . would you like to see? Just here.’

He had changed from a frightened man into one full of pride in his work, who, as he relaxed, would be far easier to interview, though this was one of the times when Simon preferred ‘talk to’.

‘I’m interested . . . you have a very wide range of medicines. All they all herbal?’

‘In the widest sense, yes. Apart from whether we would wish to use them, we would not be allowed to give any conventional prescription medicines.’