According to a short follow-up in the following day’s paper, the woman had been taking the children to visit their grandparents in York. Ironically, she’d set off late in the evening to avoid the traffic. So said a police spokesman who gave the standard spiel about the dangers of driving while overtired.

Carol couldn’t find the news stories in the online edition, so she took photocopies. She decided to walk the dog then return and do another month. That would make three in total. She reckoned that was far enough back.

It was a relief to be out in the fresh air and Flash showed her pleasure at Carol’s return with extravagant tail wagging and a long pink tongue aimed at her owner’s face. Carol avoided it with an exclamation of disgust and let the dog jump free. Ten minutes’ brisk walking brought them to the Minster Basin. Carol tied Flash to a table outside one of the pubs and went inside to get a glass of wine, a bowl of water and a bag of crisps. She gave the dog some water and shared her crisps. She let her gaze wander idly across the boats in the marina, stopping short when she spotted a stern she recognised. There couldn’t be two boats with that name, not painted in the same design. How in the name of God had Tony managed to get the narrowboat from Worcester to Bradfield? A man who could barely navigate from his own front door to work?

Even as she stared, a stocky man with a shaved head and a tight suit made from an unfortunate shiny grey material backed out of the main hatchway. He was carrying a laptop, its connection cable trailing behind him. He stumbled ashore and put the computer in the boot of a Toyota saloon. Then he returned to the boat. Either Tony was being burgled or this was Fielding’s search team. She didn’t mind which, but it might be fun to freak them out.

She untied the dog and the pair of them crossed the cobbles to the boat. The dog was reluctant at first, but with Carol’s encouragement she jumped aboard, followed by her owner. ‘Hello?’ Carol called.

Almost immediately, the bald head reappeared, a frown on his pink face. ‘Who the —’ And then recognition dawned. He looked over his shoulder. ‘Harry?’

‘What are you doing on my friend’s boat?’ Carol demanded. Flash obligingly gave a couple of brusque barks.

‘We’re —’ This time his shout was more frantic. ‘Harry?’

‘What?’ The voice came from below.

Baldy’s face creased with the effort of working out what to say. ‘It’s DCI Jordan,’ he finally settled on.

‘Ex-DCI Jordan,’ Carol gently reminded him. ‘You still haven’t explained who you are and what you’re doing on Dr Hill’s boat.’

‘We’ve got a warrant,’ a nasal Scouse voice said.