Spencer came out just as a small, wizened man wearing a trilby and a stained wax jacket looked as if he was about to throw a punch at the officer. As he was restraining two dogs on leads at the time, he was slightly off-balance and looked as though he was about to fall over. Spencer walked quickly up the stairs.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Yes, I’ve got to leave his dogs – I’ve had them all night and day and I’ve got things to do.’

The neighbor was caring for Foxley’s dachshund, so Spencer assumed these were the Jack Russell and whippet cross, who were now being returned.

‘I’m afraid I cannot allow you into the premises. There has been an incident.’

‘I just want to leave the fucking dogs. I’ve already had them longer than he pays me for – I’m a dog walker not a dog babysitter.’

Spencer lifted his hand. ‘Just a minute, sir.’

Jane pulled the front door closed behind her and checked the yellow tape was secure. She looked up as the irate dog walker handed the leads for the two dogs to Spencer.

‘What’s your name please, sir?’

‘Mind your own fucking business.’

‘I really need to know your name, sir. I am Detective Sergeant Gibbs.’ He showed his ID.

Jane walked up the steps.

‘Oh, fucking hell. Has the place been burgled?’

‘No, I’m afraid it’s far more serious than that. I really do require you name,’ Gibbs said firmly.

‘Eric Newman.’

‘Do you have any identification?’

‘I don’t believe this! What’s so serious you need ID? Will my unemployment benefit card do?’

Mr. Newman took out an old crumpled document.

‘Are you employed by Mr. Foxley?’ Jane asked, as Gibbs passed her Newman’s benefit card.

‘I do a few cash-in-hand jobs. I’m not on any payroll. I walk his dogs when he can’t. If he has business I look after them. Like I said, it’s just cash-in-hand, but he usually gives me good warning. I’ve had them all night and all day – I’ve been calling him but there’s been no reply.’

‘Do you ever house-sit for Mr. Foxley?’ Jane asked, passing his document back.

‘What do you mean?’ Newman looked evasive.

‘Exactly what I asked. Do you ever stay in Mr. Foxley’s flat when he is not there?’

‘No . . . no, never.’

‘Do you come to his flat to pick up the dogs?’

‘No. He calls me if he needs me to walk the dogs. What he does is he takes the dogs to his office and I pick them up from there. Sometimes he asks if I can keep them for the afternoon. Then what I do is I bring them back here. Or if he’s away, he pays me extra and I have them with me. But he’s not told me to keep ’em.’

‘What about the dachshund?’ Spencer asked.