‘Only after the first appearance of uniforms on his doorstep.’

‘Could mean something or nothing.’

‘Doughnuts okay, or do you need something stronger?’

‘Doughnuts will be fine. See you soon. Mwah.’

‘Mwah,’ Clarke said with a smile as the call ended.

Stephanie Pelham was refilling her glass when the doorbell rang.

‘Bloody cops,’ she sighed, heading for the stairs. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said at the sound of Cheryl’s bedroom door opening. She undid the lock and turned the handle. ‘Did you forget someth—’

The force of the door sent her stumbling.

‘I want to talk,’ Francis Haggard said. ‘She’s got time for CID, she can find time for me.’

He stepped over Pelham. Cheryl had slammed shut her own door with a squeal. Pelham was back on her feet. She grabbed a fistful of Haggard’s leather jacket.

‘Hell do you think you’re doing, Francis?’ She could smell the alcohol coming off him.

He ignored her and started slapping the bedroom door with his palm. ‘Cheryl, we need to talk about this! I’ve said I’m sorry. I’m seeing someone about it, a therapist, I mean.’ He pressed his forehead to the door, eyes squeezed shut. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes, sweetheart. You know I will. Things can go back to the way they were.’

‘Francis,’ Pelham warned him, ‘I swear to God you need to leave right now.’

‘I want to talk to my wife.’

‘Look at me, Francis. Look at me.’

He turned his head slowly, eyes opening. Pelham had taken a couple of steps back. She had her phone out, held in front of her.

‘I’ve already hit record,’ she said. ‘So unless you want to find yourself on remand, you’ll walk out of here right now.’

‘Cheryl,’ he said to the door, his voice softening further, ‘you know I love you. You know I do. We can sort this out. You and me together, put it all behind us.’

‘Later.’ The door’s thickness muffled the single word. Haggard angled his head, the better to hear.

‘What was that, Cher?’

‘We’ll talk later. Give me some time.’

‘We will talk, though, yeah?’

‘Still recording,’ Pelham stated.

Haggard twisted his body in her direction. ‘That goes nowhere,’ he said, nodding at the phone. ‘Or else …’ He stabbed a forefinger towards her, even as she kept her attention focused on the screen. ‘In fact …’ He made a lunge, wrestling the phone from her grasp.

‘Proud of yourself, are you,’ Pelham spat, rubbing at her wrist. He pocketed her phone and pointed at her again, waggling his finger a little this time. Then he pushed past her and headed for the door.

‘Call me when you’re ready!’ he yelled over his shoulder to the bedroom door. ‘I’ll be waiting!’

Pelham followed him down the hall, slamming shut the front door and making sure both locks were engaged. At the sound, Cheryl emerged.