Hobbes pondered this. ‘But why are her siblings so adamant that she never existed?’

‘Solve that, and we can close this case.’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You don’t think Adeline is the daughter?’

‘Maybe. OK, probably. But there’s definitely something else going on here.’ Hobbes watched the road ahead, the shops and houses passing by, people going about their lives. ‘Meg, can you have another go at Rosamund? Keep on at her.’

‘Will do. What about you?’

They turned into the police station car park. Latimer drove into Hobbes’s usual space. The car settled. But the inspector made no effort to get out.

‘Henry, what’s on your mind?’

He didn’t answer. He was staring through the windscreen at a brick wall.

‘You still suffering from your drug intake? Seen another ghost?’

‘Hmm?’ His mind was elsewhere.

‘Come on. I need to get out of here. Whatever you have in that bag, it’s making me feel sick.’

‘I’ve seen it before,’ he said. His voice was curiously flat.

‘Seen what?’

‘The dress. I’ve seen it before somewhere, in the past. The same cut, the blood. Or not so much that, but more … It was significant. A significant detail. Damn it, I can’t think.’

‘What was it, a former case?’

‘Every so often the fog clears. And I see it. And then it’s gone again.’

‘How do you mean, fog?’

‘I don’t know … It’s foggy in my mind, that’s all I can say. Like in sixty-two.’

‘1962? What about it?’

‘That’s when the smog came down. The last of the London pea-soupers.’

Latimer nodded. ‘I remember now. I was still in uniform back then.’

‘It was my first year as detective.’

‘Stretch out your arm so far, and your hand vanished.’

‘Yeah. Look, Meg …’

‘What is it? You’ve got that tone of voice. Is there something wrong?’

They were walking towards the station entrance.

Hobbes spoke quickly. ‘Next week, I’ll start looking for a new detective constable.’

‘What? No. It’s too soon. Tommy’s still—’

‘He’s finished.’

Latimer stopped and turned to him, her eyes glaring.

‘Meg. I can’t hold his place any longer.’

‘Fuck it. You’ve always had it in for Tommy, right from the start.’

‘He was—’

‘Right from the fuckin’ start!’

He was going to answer back, but there seemed little point. They looked at each other in silence. Latimer’s face showed every single expression she could muster, one after another. It was quite a thing to see. In truth, Hobbes felt as bad as she did. But he kept it secret.

Latimer hurried inside.

Hobbes followed at a steadier rate. He bumped into PC Barlow. ‘Ah, good, there you are. I have a job for you.’

‘To do with the Graves case?’ The young constable’s eyes lit up.

‘Maybe. It’s a bit of a strange one.’

‘Let me have it.’

Hobbes handed over the plastic bag. Barlow’s nose crinkled.

‘I know, I know. Don’t go on. I’ve had Latimer telling me off already.’

Barlow untied the knot in the bag and peered inside. ‘What is it? A toadstool?’