‘It’s Hannah’s tenth birthday party this weekend and I’ve had to get balloons, party hats and games. The bloody magician won’t be pulling any rabbits out of his top hat as he fell off a bus in Edgware Road. That means we’re going to have fifteen kids and no entertainment, unless . . . ’

He looked towards Dors. ‘Unless Big Ears over there can find me a substitute.’

He stood in the doorway to his office and looked around.

‘Is Spencer in yet? I’ve had a complaint from the uniformed chief superintendent that he’s taking up two spaces with his motorbike and stopping the chief from getting into his bay. He’s got more chains wrapped around that bloody bike than Houdini.’

‘He might be in the canteen,’ Jane suggested.

Tyler glanced towards one of the empty desks in a coveted corner position by a window, which had a chair with a back-press cushion pushed underneath it.

She couldn’t tell whether he’d heard what she’d said as he closed his office door. He was a very easy-going man to work for, but at times it was clear that his own life wasn’t always easy. He often left the station in the early afternoon in order to do the school run while his wife was busy studying for a mature student university degree in economics.

But during the short time that Jane had been stationed at Belgravia, she had never heard Tyler raise his voice. He had piercing blue eyes that sometimes appeared to look straight through you. At over six feet tall, he was one of the major players in the Mets rugby team and was clearly very fit. At the rate things were going, however, Jane doubted if she would ever get the opportunity to see if Tyler did have more to him than met the eye.

‘How much does he want to pay for this magician?’ Dors asked. ‘Some of them I’ve looked into are quite expensive. Does he want someone from the magic circle?’

Jane sighed. ‘Just look up children’s entertainers, not magicians.’

‘I’m only doing what he told me to do, Sarge!’ Dors snapped.

‘Go and knock on his door and ask how much he wants to pay for the children’s entertainer.’ Jane returned to work, while the office CID clerk and a typist arrived and took up their desks, carrying in their personalized mugs from the canteen.

Johnson had departed to take a statement from a woman whose handbag had been stolen on the Brompton Road. It had contained a staggering £2,000.