‘Actually, sir, I don’t think it is. I am aware that DS Gibbs is married. He did not get released from the station until late last night and his wife told him he wasn’t welcome to return home, so he asked if I could put him up for the night. He is a friend.’

‘Whatever,’ Miller said, as if he had absolutely no interest in what she had just said. He adjusted his cuffs. This time he was wearing a pink shirt with white collar and cuffs, and a Metropolitan Police-issue blue and white striped tie. His suit was neatly pressed, with pristine creases in the trouser legs.

‘So,’ he said. ‘We have this chap, wearing monogrammed slippers and taking care of the deceased’s pack of dogs, apparently living with the ex-wife. Is that right?’

‘Yes, sir. Apparently he is a highly regarded producer and director. DS Gibbs has seen a number of his films,’ she added wryly.

Miller waved his hand. ‘Yes, yes, I know what he does for a living. I just wish to prepare myself for the possibility that he will be there at the Barnes property.’

They drove in silence as they headed towards Hammersmith, fortunately going against the incoming traffic into the West End. Miller made detailed notes in a leather-bound notebook before snapping it closed and placing it between them on the back seat. He tugged again at his immaculate white cuffs.

‘Let me explain the way I like to conduct interviews, Tennison. You are to be an observer. I don’t in any way condone the “good cop, bad cop” attitude. I like to question, and re-question, until I get answers. I would like you to remain silent and if and when I give you an instruction to do something, I expect you to carry it out immediately.’ Miller gave a strange half laugh. ‘Perhaps it will be a learning curve for you.’

Despite his obnoxiousness, Jane forced herself to keep her emotions under control, refusing to allow her anger to show.

As they turned into Vine Road, Miller leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.

‘I’d like you to cruise past the property, do a U-turn, then head back. Take it nice and slow.’

The driver did as instructed, finally turning into the wide gravel driveway and parking behind Justine Harris’s Mercedes. Miller waited for the driver to get out and open the rear passenger door for him, but he made no attempt to assist Jane out of the car. She followed him to the front door and stood slightly behind him as he rang the bell. Jane saw him touch the knot of his tie and, even though he was holding his briefcase, he once again adjusted his shirt cuffs.