‘I am busy. What do you want?’

Hawkins kept a patient tone. ‘I need access to the address where Joel lived again, and another chat with your staff, starting with his housemates.’ She motioned past him at the men working on the blue Ford Fiesta she recognized from her previous visit. ‘It’s those two, isn’t it?’

Kask didn’t turn. ‘You did this yesterday.’

‘And now I need to do it again. How well do you know your staff, Mr Kask?’

‘Some better than others.’ He put the box down. ‘Why?’

‘We’re investigating whether Joel’s murder could be connected to drugs.’ She watched his face, alert for clues to suggest a lack of surprise. ‘Has Joel or any of his colleagues been in trouble for that sort of thing before?’

Kask hesitated, but held her gaze. ‘Absolutely not. They would be fired. They know this.’

‘Good,’ Hawkins said lightly. ‘Then we shouldn’t have any problems. I need a few minutes with Joel’s housemates, and then someone to let me back into the house, OK?’

‘Whatever you want. But I need them to finish that car. You can go to the house, and I will send them back as soon as they are done.’

Before Hawkins could answer, a yell from outside made them both look up.

‘Vlad?’

At the back of the garage, one of Kowalski’s housemates was pointing towards the entrance. Hawkins and Kask turned together to see a small white van pull in and stop beside the office.

‘Er.’ Kask was straight out from behind the desk, moving towards the door. ‘I must deal with this. It will take just a moment.’

Hawkins recognized the white van from her last visit. Perhaps an unsatisfied customer.

She watched Kask move round to the driver’s side and begin speaking to the man inside, picking up strains of what was presumably Estonian. Hawkins’ attention began to drift. The delivery driver, the blue Fiesta, now the white van – all present just like before, although perhaps not that odd, given that her last visit was less than twenty-four hours ago.

So why did the whole thing feel strange?

She turned to see Kowalski’s housemates watching Kask and the van driver, casting intermittent glances her way.

More unease.

Then she realized: what if the scene developing outside the office wasn’t the reason for everyone’s discomfort?

What if she was?

She studied the two mechanics. Yesterday they had behaved as most people did after hearing of a co-worker’s death: shocked, anxious even, but as she would have predicted. Now she was back, asking more questions, clearly unsettling their boss.

Hawkins looked from face to face, seeing the guarded expressions of those finding themselves under unwelcome scrutiny.

Those with something to hide.