‘Mrs. Compton, I do apologize for any inconvenience. You have my sincere thanks for taking care of Mr. Foxley’s dog.’

‘I really didn’t have any option, did I?’ she snapped.

‘We are very grateful, but do you think I could possibly come in, as I need to take a formal statement from you?’

Mrs. Compton unhooked the door chain. ‘All right, but I really don’t have much time. Coronation Street is about to start. Quickly, quickly. I don’t want to let it out.’ She slammed the door shut.

The entire conversation was overheard by the uniformed officer who had witnessed the earlier interaction with Eric Newman. He turned to his partner. ‘He’s a glutton for punishment, isn’t he?’

*

Back at the station, Jane could hear the click-clack of typewriter keys as she passed Tyler’s office. She went up to the canteen and was able to get a rather stale sandwich and a cup of tea just before it closed for the evening. She sat at her desk typing up her report, looking over the empty desks of both of the young DCs who she knew would have their work cut out for them in the morning. She typed quickly, attempting to make the interaction with Mr. Newman as humorless as possible. She then contacted the collator at Hammersmith police station, remembering that Newman’s address was in that area, and asked if he could look into Newman’s history. It didn’t take long before she was informed that Mr. Newman had a lengthy record of petty crimes and was well-known on the greyhound circuits. Jane added the new information to her report.

It was 8:30 p.m. by the time she’d finished, so she left the station and collected her Mini to go and see Foxley’s ex-wife, narrowly missing a grumpy-looking Spencer heading into the station with a wire-haired dachshund under his arm.

Jane drove through Putney and then Barnes before arriving at a substantial-looking house on Vine Road with a Mercedes 280SL convertible parked in the drive. As she approached the front door, a security light came on and she heard the sound of dogs barking. She rang the front doorbell and waited. The barking grew louder and then a brusque male voice came through the intercom by the side of the door.

‘Yes?’

Jane leaned forward and pressed the intercom button. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison from—’

The intercom crackled loudly and dogs could be heard barking frantically.

‘Wait a minute.’

Through the two stained-glass windows embedded in the panel door, Jane could see the shadowy figure of a very tall man. He appeared to be shouting to quiet the dogs before unlocking the door. A slim, handsome man wearing a black turtle-neck sweater and jeans with monogrammed slippers stood in the doorway.

‘Could I see your identification, please?’ He had a low, plummy voice.