“I was going to say, actually, mate, Ruth’s making me go to therapy . . .”

But Dave isn’t listening. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he shakes his head and shushes me. He wants to listen to what CornishSuse has to say.

“I live next door to Meg and Grace. They were more than just neighbors, they were our friends, our best friends, and they never did anything to hurt anyone. Everyone loved them.”

“Can you tell us a bit about the reaction from neighbors and friends about what’s happened here?”

“Oh God, everyone is crushed. Absolutely crushed. We know we just have to focus on finding Grace, which is what Meg would want us to do. Until we find her, until we find her safe, we won’t be able to mourn our friend properly. Which is why we’re organizing our own community search teams. If anyone would like to come and help us, we’re running a twenty-four-hour Find Grace headquarters from the Style Rooms Hair and Beauty Salon on Pembroke Road on the Summervale Estate. There’ll be community searches going on round the clock, so please come by if you’d like to help.”

“Ha! That’ll piss Upton right off. She’s not one for police and community cohesion, says amateurs only bugger things up, make it harder for the professionals.” Dave is talking again, but I don’t turn to look at him because at the bottom of the screen a line of red ticker tape starts to roll: BREAKING NEWS: POLICE HAVE REVEALED IT IS ESTIMATED THAT OVER £3000 IN CASH WAS TAKEN FROM THE MURDER AND KIDNAP SCENE AT 52 WOODGREEN AVENUE.

Dave reads, nods, and smiles in a smug way to show he already knew about the cash, before he wiggles his empty pint glass in the air and says, “I’m still thirsty, mate.”

I walk dutifully back to our table clutching pints for us both, while trying to think of a way to move the subject back to safer ground. But Dave is fixated on the Nichols case, staring up at the TV, nodding his head. To be fair to him, police business is the reason I usually get in touch and he’s clearly primed to tell me what he knows. I don’t want to be rude and, besides, I can’t deny I’m not interested in getting some insider knowledge, even if it turns out to be nothing. I follow his stare to the TV. The picture has changed to the press interview with DCI Upton and I know he’s waiting for me to ask.

“You knew about the cash?” I say, gesturing at the screen.

Dave shrugs, his mouth turning down like a sad cod, his head wobbling back and forth like he’s trying to make up his mind whether to talk. It’s a pantomime. He’s desperate to talk.

“You knew,” I say. Dave breaks into a grin and leans towards me, hunching over his pint.

“Upton reckons Simon Davis tried to make it look like a burglary gone wrong, what with the cash and their laptop being taken. Apparently it was well known Megan didn’t trust banks.” I’ve tried to resist, but it’s like a switch has been turned on and I’ve come alive again. Suddenly, I’m me again, the old me, a journalist on the scent of a huge story and I need to get Dave to tell me everything he knows.