He rolled his eyes as he continued to listen.

‘I see . . . it’s your neighbor’s dog that you’re calling about? And it’s a long-haired dachshund?’

Mrs. Compton continued, saying that she had become worried because the dog had been barking all night and was still whining this morning. She said that she had gone down to the basement and knocked on the door, but her neighbor, Mr. Charles Foxley, had not answered. The dog had repeatedly scratched at the front door, clearly distressed.

Spencer rolled his eyes again at the tediousness of the call. He suggested to Mrs. Compton that perhaps Mr. Foxley had gone out the previous night and had just not returned home.

Mrs. Compton became very agitated as she explained that Mr. Foxley would always contact her if he intended to leave the dog all night. She said that he had two other dogs that were not at home, but they often slept in his car. He had a very strict regime and always walked them all at about eleven every night, then again at seven every morning.

‘Do you have a key to Mr. Foxley’s flat?’ Spencer asked.

Mrs. Compton replied that she did not, but he had always given her contact details if he was going to be away from home. Spencer thanked her for the call and said that he would arrange for someone to check on Mr. Foxley’s flat.

Replacing the receiver, he held his hands up in the air. ‘Bloody hell! A long-haired dachshund hasn’t been taken for his morning walk. What the fuck has that got to do with us? I’m telling you, the switchboard need a bollocking! Uniforms should be dealing with that.’

Only having heard Spencer’s side of the conversation, Jane suggested that, as it seemed out of the ordinary and the pet owner had a strict routine, perhaps they should at least send a uniform to check things out.

Spencer shrugged. ‘OK, I’ll go down to the duty sergeant and see if there are any uniforms in the area.’ He paused by the door. ‘Perhaps the dachshund is just pissed off the other two dogs have gone off in the car with the owner.’

As Spencer walked out, Jane went back to checking through the reports. DC Gary Dors, the two-fingered typist, made so many spelling errors in his reports that she was going to have to ask him to redo them. He was on night duty for another week and the other DC, Tony Johnson, was in court.