When the assistant started stitching her up, I said, “Dr. Cooper, could you give me two minutes to go get Detective Curran? He’ll want to see the rest of this.”

Cooper stripped off his bloody gloves. “I am unsure what gives you that impression. Detective Curran had every opportunity to see the rest of this, as you call it. He apparently feels himself to be above such mundanities.”

“Detective Curran came here directly from an all-night stakeout. Nature called, as it does, and he didn’t want to interrupt your work again by coming back in. I don’t think he should be penalized for having spent twelve straight hours on duty.”

Cooper threw me a disgusted glance that said I could at least have come up with something more creative. “Detective Curran’s theoretical innards are hardly my problem.”

He turned away to drop his gloves into the biohazard bin; the clang of the lid said this conversation was over. I said evenly, “Detective Curran will want to be here for Jack Spain’s post-mortem. And I think it’s important that he should be. I’m willing to go out of my way to make sure that this investigation gets everything it needs, and I’d like to think that everyone involved will do the same.”

Cooper turned around, taking his time, and gave me a shark-eyed stare. “Simply out of interest,” he said, “let me ask: are you attempting to tell me how to run my post-mortems?”

I didn’t blink. “No,” I said gently. “I’m telling you how I run my investigations.”

His mouth was pursed up tighter than a cat’s arse, but in the end he shrugged. “I plan to spend the next fifteen minutes dictating my notes on Emma Spain. I will then move on to Jack Spain. Anyone who is in the room when I begin the process may remain. Anyone who is not present at that point will refrain from disturbing yet another post-mortem by entering.”

We both understood that I was going to pay for this, sooner or later. “Thank you, Doctor,” I said. “I appreciate that.”

“Believe me, Detective, you have no reason to thank me. I have no plans to deviate one iota from my usual routine, either for your sake or for Detective Curran’s. That being the case, I feel I should inform you that my usual routine does not include small talk between post-mortems.” And he turned his shoulder to me and started talking into the hanging mike again.

On my way out, behind Cooper’s back, I caught the assistant’s eye and pointed a finger at him. He tried to do perplexed innocence, which didn’t suit him, but I held the eye contact till he blinked. If this story got around, he knew where I was going to come looking.

The frost was still on the grass, but the light had brightened to a pearly pale gray: morning. The hospital was starting to wake up for the day. Two old women in their best coats were supporting each other up the steps, talking loudly about stuff I would have been happier not hearing, and a young guy in a dressing gown was leaning beside the door and having a smoke.