Duncan smiled at her winningly. ‘Now is that any way to greet a man who tried to help you out?’ he admonished. ‘Did you or did you not get lots of helpful calls from the public after my piece asking for anyone with information on your dead driver to come forward?’ he asked, opening his green eyes innocently.

It gave her an uncomfortable flash of déjà vu, for hadn’t Millie Vander done just the same thing not so long ago?

‘You should have given out the station’s front desk number,’ she said snappily.

She saw Duncan’s smile widen even further and held on to her temper with difficulty. She knew that he liked to get under her skin, so why oh why did she let him?

‘So, what’s good here?’ he asked, loudly enough to catch the attention of the waitress who moved forward to stand beside him, little notebook and pen poised patiently. She was a pleasant-faced, plump, middle-aged woman who looked as if she’d been doing the job for so long that her feet now forgot to feel tired.

Realising that it was pointless crossing swords with him, Trudy sighed over her own cup of tea. She’d decided to wait until Vincent arrived to order any food, and now she was glad that she had. With any luck he’d be late, and this annoying snoop would have already left her in peace.

Selecting the Welsh Rarebit, Duncan asked the waitress (with a wink) to renew Trudy’s teapot, and Trudy sighed again.

‘So, anything new for me on our dead motorist?’ he asked blandly when the waitress had moved off.

‘Isn’t that old news by now?’ Trudy shot back. ‘Surely you’ve got more interesting stories to write?’ So far, the press had got not one whiff that the fatality had been caused by anything out of the ordinary, and she wasn’t going to reveal, by so much as a flicker of an eyelash, that that wasn’t in fact the case.

She only hoped she could make sure that Vincent didn’t let the cat out of the bag if he arrived on time.

‘Everything’s about the weather,’ Duncan complained morosely. ‘It’s all over the television, the radio, the front pages. We’re all getting sick of it. Come on, haven’t you got anything interesting for me at all?’ he wheedled.

Trudy ignored the appeal. ‘With this bug going around, I’m being run off my feet doing the work of at least three,’ she said, not totally exaggerating. When not working on the Parker case, the inspector had her working overtime every day. ‘Why not run a piece praising our heroic public service workers in the face of illness and snow?’

Duncan blew her a raspberry. ‘I can just see my editor going for that.’ He laughed.