‘John was here in the office. He’d just come in from bringing in the Lord Rannoch and we were talking about the roster for the next couple of months. His mobile went. Usually he’d just ignore it, switch it off and say he’d deal with it later. But he apologized and went outside to take the call. Then he came back and asked if he could take an hour off.’ Joe looked up from his desk. ‘That was unprecedented. Even when his wife was ill, John organized things so that he never took time off work. So I said fine, of course.’

‘Did you ask him what the call was about?’

‘Not directly. I didn’t want to pry. I probably said “Everything OK?” And he just nodded and went out.’ Joe stood up and went to the window, looked at the sky with a sailor’s eye. ‘I thought it was something about the wedding. Evie panicking about details. You know women before the big day. And John was besotted with her. She was the only person he’d leave work for.’

‘Did he go out in his car?’ Perez was trying to eep his voice calm, but he thought this might be something new. If John Henderson had met Jerry Markham on the afternoon he died, they might be close to finding a motive for Henderson’s death. If he’d seen or heard something, the killer might have been forced to stop him talking.

‘I don’t know. There was a thick fog. It came in very suddenly. It was quite clear when John came into the office for the meeting, but when he went I couldn’t even see the tugs across the water. I don’t think I heard his car, but then the fog muffles sound too. I assumed he’d driven away.’

‘And he came back that afternoon?’ Perez asked. He glanced across at Willow, who seemed sharper, more alert. She’d recognized the significance of this piece of news too.

‘Yes, almost an hour after he’d left,’ Sinclair said. ‘He put his head round the door to let me know.’

‘How did he seem?’

Sinclair gave a little laugh. ‘How could I tell? John was never one for showing his emotions at the best of times. And I saw him for a second as he called in to let me know he was back.’ He paused and became suddenly serious. ‘But he didn’t look like a man who’d just committed murder. Don’t go down that route, Jimmy. John Henderson was a good man. I’ll not have his memory sullied by rumours.’

They sat for a moment in silence. The wind blew some scrap paper round the yard outside the office. Sinclair frowned at it as if it was an affront to his idea of order.

‘John was working here after Jerry had died,’ Perez said. ‘Did he talk at all about what had happened?’