I had shadowed Hawthorne on two investigations and it would be fair to say that the regular police had not taken kindly to him on either occasion, resenting his interference as much as they needed his expertise. However, this time I was pleasantly surprised. The man who had spoken was very tall, with a crumpled appearance, pockmarked cheeks and fair hair hanging down in strands. He was dressed in plain clothes – a jacket and tie. But the most remarkable thing about him was that he was positively beaming. His blue eyes had lit up at his first sighting of Hawthorne.

‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he went on. ‘Deputy Chief Jonathan Torode. This is Special Constable Jane Whitlock.’

Whitlock was standing behind him, holding a hat that she was twisting out of shape. She was quite a bit shorter than him and older too, dressed in a dark blue uniform with a knee-length skirt and dark stockings that did her no favours. Her hair was dark brown and limp, falling over a square forehead and sullen eyes. The two of them could have been a nephew and aunt, visiting Alderney for a day trip and recovering from a particularly rough crossing.

‘It’s a nasty business. Very nasty. We’ve just been over to the building at the bottom of the garden. What is it? An old battery? I have to say, I’ve never seen anything like it. You know, there’s never been a murder on Alderney and we don’t have any experience of it in Guernsey either. I’ve been in the force for twenty-six years and the only dead body I’ve ever seen was some chap who fell off a ladder and broke his neck. Anyway, this is a completely different kettle of fish. John Le Mesurier. Was that his name?’

‘Charles, I think.’

‘Yes. That’s right. I’m getting him confused with the actor. I understand he was wealthy.’

‘So I hear.’

Torode looked at Hawthorne curiously for a moment, then broke into laughter. ‘Ha ha! Yes! Keeping your cards close to your chest. I can understand that. Look, why don’t we go into the kitchen and have a chat?’ He noticed me for the first time. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m working with him,’ I said.

‘Good. Good. Whitlock, would you mind making us some tea? And while you’re at it, maybe you can take a peek at what’s in the fridge. I got up too early for breakfast this morning and of course there was nothing on the plane.’

I was surprised he could treat his deputy so haughtily, but Whitlock was evidently used to it. She grimaced and went into the kitchen ahead of us. We followed, taking our places at the table.