‘Probably easier if you ride with us. It’s an absolute bugger to park near the station anyway, especially on a weekday. Rachel can drop you back here to your car after we’re done, if you like.’

I studied him for a moment, trying to read him, to work out what he was thinking. His left ear was cauliflowered like a rugby player’s – tight head prop, I thought randomly – and he had a small white scar curling below his lip. His eyes were a very pale, icy blue, and gave nothing back. Before this weekend I had never in my life spoken to a policeman for longer than required to ask directions. Now I’d met three in as many days.

Assuming they are actually police.

‘This is going to sound a bit weird,’ I said. ‘But aren’t you supposed to show me your ID, or something?’

Naylor looked pained, as if I’d offended him.

‘Do you not believe that I’m a police officer, Mr Lynch?’

‘No, I mean yes, it’s not that. It’s just that I’m not really sure what to believe, these last few days.’

A trio of geese flapped noisily overhead, squawking to each other. Naylor kept his eyes on me.

‘Really?’ He produced a black wallet ID from his jacket pocket. I looked briefly at the picture on his warrant card – name, rank, collar number – alongside the crest of the Metropolitan Police before he snapped it shut again. ‘Bad weekend?’

‘Bad doesn’t really cover it, to be honest.’

I got in the back seat and DS Redford pulled the Ford smoothly around in a semi-circle, back out to the exit onto the main road.

‘Sorry to hear that,’ Naylor said to me over his shoulder.

‘I had sort of assumed that young officer I met on Saturday would be the one who came out this morning. Didn’t realise they’d send a detective chief inspector.’

‘Things have moved on a bit since Saturday.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Let’s talk at the station.’

We passed the rest of the journey in silence.

Chapter 30

30

For the second time in three days, I found myself in the reception area of Kilburn Police Station. There were a couple of tramps sitting half asleep on the back row of seats and a bored-looking custody sergeant behind the counter who nodded at Naylor as we came in. Redford punched buttons next to a heavy security door and it opened into a bare corridor with three doors on each side. The last door on the left bore the black plastic nameplate ‘Int Room 3’. Inside were four chairs and a table. Redford gestured for me to take a seat.

‘Tea or coffee?’ she said. She had a clear, kind tone to her voice which made me instantly warm to her. I couldn’t tell what her accent was, but it wasn’t London. Something northern.

‘Tea, please. Milk, no sugar.’