Tyler takes out his own card and they make the exchange silently, fingers brushing lightly against one another. They stand and shake hands, and once again the handshake lingers a moment too long. Then the fire officer is walking away without another word. As he reaches the lift, though, Enfield turns and glances back, and Tyler is sure he didn’t imagine it. Then the giant of a man ducks his head and disappears into the lift.

—

When he gets back to the Old Vicarage, Doggett is standing in the driveway.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“Auditioning for The X-Factor.”

Tyler sketches out his visit to the fire station and the possible link between their case and the recent arson attacks.

The DI grunts and stares up at the scorched bricks around the windows. “I’m not convinced.”

“I felt sure you wouldn’t be.”

Behind Doggett, Rabbani emerges from the incident room with a sheet of paper in her hand and tries to catch Tyler’s eye.

“What do you think, then?” Doggett asks.

“I think he might be right.”

“I felt sure you would do. All right, look into it, but let’s get some sleep first. Neither of us are gonna be use nor ornament if we don’t get at least a couple of hours.”

He wants to ask about Oscar, but with Rabbani hovering within earshot this isn’t the time. “I’ve set up an interview with Michael Denham this afternoon.”

“The solicitor? You think he’s involved?”

“I got the feeling he might be trying to hide something. He certainly didn’t want us talking to his daughter.”

“Could just be a protective father.”

“I don’t know, there was something about the way she tried to distance herself from Gerald, making out they only met a couple of times. I felt she was being a little disingenuous.”

“Disingenuous, is it?” Doggett’s smirking at him now. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we? You’d better speak to her again.” Then, without turning round, he shouts to Rabbani, “All right, Miss Marple. Out with it. What have you got for us?”

Rabbani steps forward. “I’ve been looking into the vicar, sir?” She’s clutching the paper in her hand as though her life depends on it. Or at the very least her career. “You said you thought he might be a bit dodgy and—”

“All right, luv, final score, eh?”

She hesitates, mouth open.

“He means give us the highlights,” Tyler says before Doggett can start shouting again.