The Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team had moved buildings three times in as many years, firstly from Sussex House into a former dormitory building at Police HQ, and then to another building close by. At least, Grace thought gratefully, he now had his own desk, in his own private room, and a conference table, albeit one that could just about fit four very slim people around it. ‘One-eyed monster? You’ve lost me, Norman.’ He sipped his second strong coffee of the morning, although it was only just after 9 a.m.

‘Dr Crisp.’

‘Ah.’ Grace understood now. ‘Tell me? But first, how are you?’ Grace realized he hadn’t spoken to him since he had finished his treatment for prostate cancer.

Potting waggled a finger in the air. ‘All working tickety-boo – the winky action! Just need a new lady in my life now, and I think I may have found her.’

‘Really?’

Sitting down, Potting said, ‘I’ve met this fantastic lady and I think I might be in love again, Roy.’

‘That’s great news!’ Grace smiled, albeit a little dubious. During the ten years he had worked with Norman, he had come to greatly respect his abilities as a homicide detective, but somewhat less so as a man able to judge potential life partners – with one tragic exception, a wonderful detective on his team who was just the kind of down-to-earth, caring person Norman deserved. But she had died, heroically but tragically, whilst off-duty, when she had gone into a blazing building to attempt to rescue a trapped girl and a dog.

Before her, much of Norman Potting’s love life had, in Grace’s opinion, been a total train crash, due to his choosing completely the wrong women. The worst of them was a Thai con artist the detective had met online, who had rinsed him. But he was glad to hear him sounding so happy – Norman had been grieving for a long while and it was good he was now able to move forward. ‘Tell me about her?’

Norman Potting gave him a dreamy look. ‘She’s Swedish, Roy. Her name is Kerstin Svenson and she’s gorgeous and very witty. Amazing, I never thought at my age I’d meet someone like her!’

‘And she’s how old?’

‘Twenty-eight.’

‘Punching above your weight, aren’t you?’ Roy asked him, quizzically.

Potting beamed. ‘Maybe just a little!’

‘How many times have you been out with her?’

Potting shook his head and reddened a fraction. ‘Well, it’s a bit difficult because she lives in Sweden – a town called Sundsvall.’

‘Where did you meet her?’

‘Ah.’ Potting suddenly looked evasive and reddened again. ‘Well, we haven’t actually met yet, Roy – I mean physically.’

‘So, who introduced you?’

‘We met online.’

‘On a dating site?’

Potting looked sheepish. ‘Yes.’

Alarm bells were clanging inside Grace’s head. ‘OK, when are you going to physically meet?’