‘You need to ask yourself what type of journalist you want to be. It might be easier to find work down in the gutter press, but don’t you want more from your life? If you are any good at writing and investigating, put it to good use, for pity’s sake. Don’t just do what’s easy, do what matters.’

‘Why did you defend a child abuser, Dr Bloom?’

Bloom shook her head at the woman before turning and entering the building. Jameson was talking to the Terminal Manager at Leeds Bradford Airport via video link. She quickly removed her jacket and sat down beside him.

‘Jerry, this is Dr Bloom,’ said Jameson. ‘Jerry Moore is in charge of all the cafes and concessionary stands land-side at LBA.’

The man on the screen was in his mid-thirties. He had a thin face and a rather unflattering beard. The hair on his head was dark and smooth but his facial hair was coarse and frizzy.

‘G’morning,’ he said, his voice slightly higher than she’d expected.

‘Jerry was telling me that he remembers Stuart Rose-Butler well. That they were all pretty shocked to discover he and Libby were a couple,’ said Jameson.

‘Yeah, a right shock that was at the Christmas do. She’s such a lovely lady.’

‘How would you describe Stuart?’ said Bloom.

Jerry leaned back in his seat. ‘It’s safe to say I didn’t like the guy. I wasn’t the TM when Stuart started work here. I was his colleague, so I saw both sides. He’d properly suck up to anyone in management, but to the rest of us he was a bully.’

Bloom thought of the picture she’d seen of Stuart on Libby’s mantelpiece. He was well-built and good-looking. Guys like that could often be dismissive of the Jerry Moores of the world. ‘A bully in what sense?’

‘Nothing in-your-face. But he was always putting people down, taking the credit, showing off – you know the type. I expect he was angry about being a nobody. He hated it when I was promoted. Whoo,’ said Jerry with wide eyes and a shake of the head, ‘that made him furious.’

‘And how did he lose his job?’ asked Jameson.

‘It was only a matter of time. He rarely did any actual work. He’d ponce around making the rest of the team do it and, you see, I knew that, so I paid attention. But then he shot himself in the foot, didn’t he? He stole the money from one of the charity boxes we have by the tills. Said he only borrowed it to buy lunch, but in the cafe they got a free lunch so we knew that was a load of bull.’

‘So you fired him?’

‘Yep. Stealing is gross misconduct, so he was a goner.’