‘Driscoll let something slip in front of John. Possible bad blood between Agnew and Haggard.’

‘Over Stephanie Pelham?’

‘Doesn’t really make sense, does it? Unless …’

‘What?’

Clarke leaned forward over her desk. ‘Haggard and Stephanie? What if they had something going on and the lover found out?’

‘Is it worth asking, do you think?’

‘There’s definitely something here.’ Clarke jabbed a finger against the list of numbers. ‘A relationship covered up. The Crew were a pretty tight bunch; I dare say romantic conquests were discussed. If something was going on between Agnew and Stephanie, chances are Francis knew.’ She was thinking of the footage from the house when Haggard burst in, the pointed finger, the meeting of eyes …

‘So who do we bring in first?’ Esson was asking. ‘Driscoll, Agnew or Stephanie?’

Clarke rose to her feet and crossed to the two desks where George Gamble and Tess Leighton sat. ‘Do you think you could go fetch Chris Agnew? He’ll either be working a shift or at home.’

‘What’s it in aid of?’ Gamble enquired.

‘Just keep him here, either of the interview rooms will do. Mug of tea or coffee if he wants it. I shouldn’t be too long.’

‘And when he asks us why?’ Leighton asked.

‘We just need some additional information from him,’ Clarke answered. ‘Tell him we’re in possession of his mobile phone log. Then leave him to sweat.’

‘Might not be so easy, the way the radiators are acting up,’ Gamble said, rising with the usual considerable effort.

‘Tea won’t be straightforward either,’ Leighton added, ‘seeing how somebody finished the milk.’

Clarke fetched a ten-pound note from her bag. She held it out to Ritchie. ‘Another mission for you, Jason,’ she said. ‘Milk and maybe some biscuits. The change can go on my desk.’

‘One minute a penthouse, the next the corner shop,’ Gamble announced with a snuffled laugh.

Clarke was already hoisting her jacket from the back of her chair. Esson didn’t need further encouragement.

‘Do we tell them we’re coming?’ she asked.

‘And spoil the surprise?’ Clarke shot back.

‘Ah yes, silly me.’

Fox emerged from the DCI’s office and looked around. ‘What did I miss?’ he asked.

‘Serves you right for deserting the shop floor, Malcolm,’ Clarke said, blowing him a kiss and striding from the room.