‘He’s warning me off,’ Pelham said, her free hand reaching to her neck. ‘I thought he was going to attack me. It had my stomach doing somersaults. I thought I was going to throw up on the spot.’ She drew in a deep breath. They all watched as Haggard wrenched the phone from her grasp, Stephanie touching her wrist at the memory of it. ‘And then he leaves,’ she said. ‘Back down the driveway and over the gates. So much for security, eh?’

‘Have you tried calling your phone?’

‘Goes straight to voicemail.’

‘Could he unlock it if he wanted to?’

‘Facial recognition, so I doubt it.’

‘Tracking?’

‘Never bothered setting it up.’ She saw that Clarke was looking at the phone lying on the table close to the iPad. ‘A trick I learned from my ex – keep your business and personal lives separate.’

‘Which phone did Francis take?’

‘Business. Which is a blessing, I suppose, since I’ve put work on hold.’

‘Stephanie did a wonderful job of our flat,’ Cheryl said quietly.

‘Yes, about your flat.’ Clarke pulled back her shoulders. ‘Bit of additional bad news – neighbours reported a break-in.’ She watched Cheryl’s mouth fall open. ‘It’s a bit of a mess and there are some breakages. Plus you’ll need a locksmith.’

‘What happened?’ Stephanie demanded.

‘From the CCTV, two delivery drivers got in. We reckon they just kept pushing buttons until someone unlocked the door. They were carrying pizza boxes and wore motorbike helmets, visors up but mouths and noses masked.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Cheryl said, her voice trembling.

‘How much damage did they do?’ Stephanie added.

‘Broken vase,’ Esson recited, ‘some art that will need re­framing …’

‘Bastards.’

‘Mostly stuff just needs picking up and put back in drawers.’

‘One thing they did do,’ Clarke added, ‘was strew the place with a powder that I’m pretty sure is cocaine. Would they have found it in the flat, Cheryl?’

‘I don’t …’ She looked to her sister for guidance.

‘Francis used the stuff,’ Stephanie answered. ‘Not my sister, though.’

‘Ever partake yourself?’

She stared at Clarke. ‘Very occasionally.’

‘Would Francis’s stash have been easy to find?’ Clarke asked Cheryl.

‘I don’t think he kept any at home. It was just for nights out, maybe at a party.’

‘You’re sure about that?’

Cheryl nodded.

Clarke signalled to Esson and began to rise to her feet. ‘If you’re worried about security,’ she told Stephanie, ‘we can maybe make officers available. No promises, though, we’re hellish stretched.’

‘Gina Hendry said the same. She was here first thing.’ Stephanie’s focus shifted to her sister, who was cupping both hands around the mug as she held it up to her mouth. ‘You can’t go anywhere near him, Cheryl. You know that, right?’

‘Of course,’ Cheryl Haggard said quietly, blowing across the surface of the liquid and studying the ripples her breath made.