‘Yes.’ She pictured Baker’s parents, answering the door to the liaison officers who would have been dispatched a few hours ago. Imagined the feeling as the pits of their stomachs fell.

White stood. ‘What happened?’

‘Right now, I’m not at liberty to say,’ Hawkins told him. ‘But there are certain elements of the case I’d like your opinion on.’

‘Of course.’

She led with the question that offered least information. ‘Can you think of any reason why someone might want to hurt one of your supporters?’

‘He was murdered?’ White studied her for a second. ‘That’s terrible, of course. But what makes you think his death had anything to do with his membership of our society?’

‘Fair question,’ she conceded, opting to divulge a little more. ‘Glenn wasn’t the killer’s only victim. As far as we can tell, the others weren’t members of your association, although hopefully you can confirm that for us. But they all held strong spiritual beliefs, which suggests …’

‘I see.’ White glanced up at the ceiling, shrugging as he looked back. ‘But it could still be coincidence. I don’t mean to be evasive, but you must understand how damaging negative press can be for an institution like ours.’

‘We aren’t here to cause trouble, but I have to ask.’ Hawkins produced her mobile and scrolled through the images from the previous day. She found a shot of the mark scratched into the floor. ‘Does this mean anything to you?’

White barely looked at the screen. ‘Alchemy. It means purified.’

‘So I hear,’ she said, wondering if there was some kind of spiritualist theory test. ‘We found it under Glenn’s body.’

White crossed his arms. ‘Then perhaps his death is connected in some way to his belief system. But we have no particular association with that line of symbolism, and it still doesn’t help me determine why anyone would want the man dead.’

‘OK.’ She chose to move on, not wishing to fall out in case they needed him at a later stage. ‘No more questions for now, but I’d appreciate it if you’d check your records, dig out Glenn’s membership details.’

‘Certainly.’ White scratched at his cheek, nodded, then walked purposefully towards the door, pausing to add, ‘I’m afraid there isn’t likely to be much. We’re just a group of like-minded individuals; our events are free and purely voluntary. The only personal information we keep is used to communicate with our followers about news and other items of interest.’

‘Understood.’ She’d expected as much. ‘Whatever you have is appreciated.’

White nodded and left the room, leaving Hawkins and Chris alone. Chris wandered straight to one of the plinths and crouched to study what looked like a medieval pizza cutter.

‘Tibetan bronze and steel kartika,’ he read from the plaque. ‘Nineteenth-century ceremonial flaying knife.’