‘I was being sarcastic, Gary.’

Jane shared Spencer’s frustration. She felt that the dealing with the petty crime that took up all their time was a waste of their experience. Like Spencer, she had years of training behind her. As if reading her mind, he crossed over and sat on the edge of her desk.

‘Not sure how much more of this I can take, Jane. I know I’ve blotted my copybook a few times in the past, but this is really testing my patience. I’ve applied for a promotion and I’ve had a couple of interviews but they’ve led to nothing. No one has had the balls to tell me the reason I’ve been sidelined. I know you didn’t get on with the lads in the Flying Squad, but they’re a bunch of wankers anyway. And they turned me down.’

Jane nodded. She knew it was unwise to join in with Spencer’s disgruntled rant, and she’d learned to keep her mouth shut. Spencer remained perched on the edge of her desk, kicking the side with the heel of his scruffy shoe.

‘I mean, it’s bordering on bloody ridiculous. I haven’t had a single criminal worth wasting my time on, and the paperwork just gets more and more every day.’

He nodded over to the empty desk that belonged to Detective Inspector Timothy Arnold, lowering his voice. ‘I see he’s still not back yet. He should have a visitor’s book instead of a duty status if you ask me. It’s unbelievable. He’s a bloody hypochondriac. He doesn’t get a simple headache, it has to be a full-blown migraine. He can’t just get a cold, it has to be flu. And if he gets flu it’s bloody pneumonia!’

Jane felt uncomfortable about the banter, because it showed a complete lack of respect. At the same time, since she had been there, DI Arnold had taken frequent sick days and he had now been absent for almost a week.

Spencer leaned closer. ‘You tell me, what kind of man has an effing battery-operated Mickey Mouse pencil sharpener? And he doesn’t even have any kids. Mind you, if you saw his wife Bronwyn, it’s no wonder.’

Jane turned away, not wanting to listen to any more. Spencer wasn’t finished, though he did have the forethought to keep his voice low.

‘You know what he’s got in his drawer? Antacid tablets, Epsom salts and hemorrhoid cream. And he keeps a St Valentine’s Day mug in the canteen.’

‘That’s enough, Spence,’ Jane snapped. ‘Apparently he’s down with gastroenteritis.’ Her desk phone rang. Jane held up her hand as she answered. ‘Yes, sir, I’ll ask him now.’

She replaced the receiver and looked over at Dors. ‘The guv wants to know if you’ve found a kids’ entertainer for the party on Saturday.’