Scott leaned on the counter and produced a menacing smile. ‘I don’t think my means of communicating with my clients is any of your business. Now, I want to see my client. And in an interview room, not some nasty little cell that smells of piss and vomit.’ It was an impressive performance, Carol thought, remembering all the times Bronwen Scott’s production numbers had driven her to distraction. Being on the same side was a lot more fun.

Sergeant Fowler made great play of consulting his watch and comparing it to the clock on the wall behind him. ‘Let me see. DCI Fielding will be wanting to interview at nine, and your client is entitled to eight hours’ rest, and it’s half past eleven already. So I reckon that gives you an hour with your client, tops.’

‘I’ll take as long with my client as I need. If that means DCI Fielding has to rearrange her plans for the morning, that’s the way the cookie crumbles, Sergeant Fowler. Now, are you going to produce Dr Hill?’

‘One moment,’ he said ponderously, his forehead corrugating. He scratched his armpit then pointed at Carol, who had been hanging back in the doorway. ‘Is she with you?’

Scott gave a nonchalant glance over her shoulder. ‘My intern? Of course.’

‘Do you think I’m daft? Your intern?’ He leaned forward, his mouth moving as if he was chewing a wad of tobacco. ‘It’s DCI Jordan, as was, right?’

‘With the emphasis on “as was”, Sergeant Fowler. I don’t think our paths actually crossed while I was still working.’ She stepped forward and produced her most winning smile.

‘What am I supposed to call you, anyway?’ he asked Carol.

‘Ms Jordan will do nicely, Sergeant. It’s my name. I don’t have a rank any more.’

He scratched the band of stubble that ran round his head, frowning. ‘Well, Ms Jordan. I can’t let you sit in on an interview between a prisoner and his solicitor. You’re just a civilian, you’ve no cause to be there.’

‘I’m shadowing Ms Scott. I’m planning on a career in the law, Sergeant Fowler. It’s a shame to waste all that hands-on experience. My role here is purely as an observer.’

‘But you know him. You used to work with him.’ He threw his hands in the air, a gesture that threatened his shirt buttons. He was clearly struggling for a valid reason why Carol shouldn’t be involved. ‘It’s not… appropriate.’

‘Oh, behave, Sergeant. Anybody would think you were still wet behind the ears,’ Scott said. ‘I’m always dealing with people I’ve encountered before. Defence witness one week, accused the next. And who do you think defends bent coppers? Criminal lawyers like me. So get down off your high horse and give Ms Jordan some credit for choosing an exciting new career path.’