That only left the car Terry had died in. He used the more commonplace car often, when he didn’t need to impress anyone. Had he left it in the Riley somewhere?

And once again, Geoffrey Thorpe began to despair. He just had to get that damning, incriminating piece of paper back and destroy it.

What the hell was he going to do?

*

Duncan Gillingham couldn’t believe his luck when he passed the Port Meadow café not far from Trudy’s police station, and saw her sitting inside. Why it was called Port Meadow when it was nowhere near that famous open vista, he had no idea, nor did he care. He was only pleased to see that it was open for business, and there, sitting at one of the tables near the window, was Trudy Loveday herself.

He felt his heart thump, as it always seemed to, whenever he caught sight of her. He was never quite sure why it persisted in doing so. Perhaps it was the uniform! Or perhaps it was because she was so spiky, she challenged him as few women in his life ever had.

He pushed into the café, happy to breathe warm air for a change. All the sub-zero air just lately was making him cough.

*

Trudy, sensing a male presence looming down on her, looked up, expecting to see Vincent. They had arranged that morning at Dr Ryder’s house that they’d meet, so that he could either confirm or blow a hole in Geoffrey Thorpe’s alibi.

Clement had had to leave her for the day to go to his office in order to catch up on anything urgent and make sure nothing had come in that required his attention. He’d been reluctant to go but Trudy had promised to fill him in on anything. And since tomorrow was Saturday, and not a working day for him, they could only hope they’d have one last full day before the axe fell, and Inspector Jennings assigned the case elsewhere.

A smile was already forming on her face before she realised that it wasn’t Vincent slipping into the seat opposite her after all. She blinked at Duncan, the smile dropping off her face, and then she scowled instead.

Her cap was lying beside her place setting at the table, and she raised a hand automatically to check that the pins holding her bun in place were all secure. She had a lot of thick brown, curling hair, which she could sometimes be a bit vain about, but it could also be a nuisance and hard to control at times. Just like the man opposite her now! Relieved to feel that her mop of hair was suitably tidy, she felt reassured.

‘And to what do I owe this dubious honour?’ she asked glumly.