‘Could you make a start on these?’ Maggie handed her a sheaf of papers. ‘Two new cases from FCI, came in last night. Mysterious shed fire that totalled a ride-on mower and a list of power tools that looks a bit extravagant for someone who’s not building a full-size replica of the Eiffel Tower in their back garden. Also, two TAG Heuers, insured a month before they went missing.’

‘Subtle.’ As Maggie pulled away, Robin caught a whiff of toothpaste. ‘Have you just cleaned your teeth?’

‘What? Oh – yes. Coffee, you know.’ She got out her lipstick and applied a top-up coat, checked it in a little compact mirror.

Robin looked at her more closely. ‘Maggie, are you … blushing?’

‘No, I am not.’

‘Ooh, are you meeting Richard Hargreaves?’ came Lorraine’s voice from the back.

‘God almighty, it’s like the bloody Spanish Inquisition.’ Maggie zipped her bag then went to the broom cupboard and got out a pair of heels. She stuffed her feet in and hustled out of the door like she was under fire.

Robin listened to her going down the stairs, usual clumping muted. When she heard the street door slam, she clicked back to the police Facebook page. Nothing new there, and the Twitter account echoed the same bare details. The Birmingham Mail site had the story now but nothing new. A photograph showed a dilapidated factory building, the entrance taped off.

Maggie had left her email open, Nuttall’s message three from the top in her inbox. Robin glanced towards the back office, checking she was out of Lorraine’s eye-line, then clicked on it.

No ID yet but checked for you, def not Becca. More ASAP.

She went into Maggie’s sent messages, searched for ones she’d sent to him and read six or seven to get a feel for the style. From her own phone she emailed Maggie a picture of Ana’s photograph, copied it quickly onto the desktop and then deleted the email before – fingers crossed – Maggie could see it on her phone. Then she went back to the inbox, opened his message and hit ‘Reply’.

Couple of others (attached & below). Would be great to eliminate if poss?

She pasted in a link to one of Tarryn’s Instagram selfies, attached Ana’s photo and sent the email before she could hesitate. Then she deleted it from the Sent box, moved the picture to the trash folder and emptied it.

Twenty minutes later, she had a reply. No to both – good news?

Maggie returned at two, the toothpaste on her breath replaced by white wine, cheeks definitely pink. ‘Say nothing,’ she said, picking up the laptop.

‘So you had lunch then?’ Robin couldn’t resist.

‘Just a sandwich.’

‘Well, as long as it was just a sandwich,’ said Lorraine, sticking her head round the door.