‘It’s the bit between charming Rebecca Watkins becoming passionate lover and future life partner to Eden Paternoster, and her getting up close and personal with Eden’s husband. How did that happen? Why did that happen? Who is driving this? Rebecca Watkins or Niall Paternoster?’

Grace’s job phone rang. He answered and heard Mark Taylor’s voice.

‘Sir, subject’s on the move. We’ve been tracking him north out of Brighton and heading into Croydon. Looks like he’s going to the industrial estate where Mutual Occidental Insurance are based.’

‘For a spot of nooning?’

‘Could well be, sir.’

‘Thanks for the update.’

‘I’ll keep you posted. And I just wanted to say I’m very sorry, sir, that we’re again being redeployed this evening back to the drugs job, Operation Cockerel. But we will still be with you until 6 p.m. We’re glad to give you this extra day and we’re hopeful we’ll be back with you full-time later in the week.’

‘I appreciate it, Mark.’

Ending the call, Branson frowned at him. ‘Nooning? What’s that?’

‘Sorry, I forgot you’ve led a sheltered life.’

‘Haha.’

Grace brought him up to speed with Taylor’s report, adding, ‘It means having an illicit lunchtime liaison.’

‘Ah.’ He dug into Grace’s crisps and ate most of the rest of the packet. Munching on them, he said, ‘Just saving you from yourself.’

‘I appreciate your altruism.’

‘I’m all heart.’ Then Branson frowned. ‘OK, so no surprise they are meeting at lunchtimes. Rebecca has a husband expecting her home after work. To me, the big question in all of this is where does Eden Paternoster fit in?’

‘Or where did she?’ Grace posited darkly.

They’d finished their food and the place was getting increasingly rammed. ‘Let’s head back and talk outside,’ Grace said, and drained his drink.

As they walked up Church Street towards the car park, Grace, who had been silent for some minutes said, ‘We’ve had our share of femme fatale characters in the past, haven’t we? Ashley Harper and Jodie Bentley spring to mind.’

‘We sure have. Think this is what we’re dealing with here?’

Entering the car park, Branson inserted the ticket into one of the pay machines, followed by his credit card. The area was deserted. ‘It is interesting that Rebecca Watkins made no mention of this relationship when we interviewed her at headquarters. She appears to be cunning and resourceful.’

‘She is.’

Collecting his ticket, they walked up the three flights of stone stairs to the level where they were parked. Grace waited until they were in the privacy of their car before continuing. But he was interrupted by another call from Taylor. He put it on speaker.

‘An update, sir. Subject is out of his car, walking down the street, holding hands with Rebecca Watkins.’

‘Sweet,’ Grace commented.

‘Orman is parked up close – looks like they might be heading somewhere for lunch. When we get the location, she’ll go in.’

‘Good work, Mark.’ Ending the call, he turned back to Branson. ‘So which came first, the chicken or the egg?’