Spencer had just bitten into a doughnut when Tyler gestured for him to come to one side. He spoke quietly: ‘Listen, Spence, I’m going to have to go to Scotland Yard for this press conference and I want you and Jane to get over to that agency. Start digging but keep on your toes; these are all theatre people who lie through their teeth to make a living.’

*

‘First off, we talk to James Myers as he’s expecting us, then we interview Emma Ransom,’ Spencer said.

Jane flipped opened her notebook. ‘OK, she’s one of the agents. Then we also have Laura Queen and Daniel Bergman. It means they all have separate offices.’

Spencer almost shot a red light. ‘Apparently they’re taking Foxley’s Jag XK120 and his Volvo into the yard. And DS Lawrence is back at the murder site.’

Jane stared out of the window. ‘I’d say the forensic department have their work cut out for them. We don’t even know if the killer was known to him and was waiting inside the flat, as there were no signs of a break-in, or if Foxley let him in. We’ll probably have to wait for the postmortem results to give us some clues regarding his blunt-force injuries.’

They drove along Shaftesbury Avenue, turned left into Wardour Street, and parked outside Paramount House. The lift had the same ‘Out of Order’ notice taped to it so they walked up to the first floor.

‘I think we need to have a chat with the receptionists. Are we going to work the interviews together or solo?’ Jane asked.

Spencer headed towards the agency’s reception doors. ‘I think we work this together. I don’t want to put my big foot in it. I’m going to need your intuitive skills. To be perfectly honest with you, I’m completely fucking knackered.’

‘Do we know the receptionists’ names?’

Spencer held up his notebook. ‘Got to hand it to the boss, I think he’s even got the name of the cleaner. Rita Wood and Angela Merton.’

He pushed open the double doors with Jane just behind him. They could see that only one of the girls was at the reception desk. She was blowing her nose into a wad of tissues.

‘Good morning. I’m Detective Sergeant Spencer Gibbs and this is Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison. We have an appointment with James Myers. You are . . . Rita?’

‘No, I’m Angela, but everyone calls me Angie.’ She blew her nose again. ‘We’ve all just heard the news. It’s terrible . . . I can’t believe it. Poor Rita has had to go to the toilets ’cause she can’t stop crying. It’s shockin’ . . . absolutely shockin’.’

The phone rang as she spoke. She picked it up and spoke in an entirely different, and much posher, voice.