Nathan is tightening the turn now, the penthouse slowly rotating beneath us. This is kind of him, and I appreciate the gesture, but what’s slightly creepy is the fact that he knew where to come. I’ve never mentioned Pavel to him. Neither have I talked about his wonderful penthouse apartment.

He throws me a glance back across his shoulder. He wants to know if he got the right property.

‘You did,’ I say. ‘So how come you knew?’

He shakes his head and chuckles. He won’t say. And when I put the question again, this time with an edge of irritation, he murmurs something about the right friends in the right places. This could mean anything, which is probably why he said it, but I’m left with an uneasiness which refuses to go away. We’re flying up the estuary now, with a perfect view of this vast sheet of water, but it’s minutes later, back on course for Dunkeswell, before I hear Mitch on the intercom.

‘You had a visit on Saturday.’ He’s talking to Nathan. ‘Operation Bulldog? A couple of DCs?’

‘You mean the golf club?’

‘Yeah. I understand they wanted to know about your CCTV. Is that true?’

If Nathan is troubled by any of this, it doesn’t show. On the contrary, unlike yours truly, he doesn’t even ask for the source of this information. Instead, he compliments the police on their thoroughness.

‘Smart move,’ he says. ‘They need to cover every base.’

‘But why? What were they after?’

‘I have no idea. I imagine it must go back to that weekend when Christianne disappeared. Unfortunate, really.’

‘How come?’

Nathan breaks off to make a radio call to announce his descent into Dunkeswell. He throttles back and I feel the aircraft begin to sink beneath me. Only then does he return to Mitch.

‘What they wanted were pictures from CCTV in the car park. Shame, really.’

‘Why?’

‘We have no cameras.’

THIRTY-TWO

Back on the ground at Dunkeswell, we all agree it’s been an amazing flight. We say our thank-yous and our goodbyes, and Nathan tells Mitch he’s welcome up at the golf club any time. When he enquires how long Mitch might be staying in Budleigh, Mitch asks why.

‘We may need to lay in more supplies of Guinness.’ He pats Mitch’s shoulder and nods at the camera. ‘Glad you got the shots you need.’

Nathan chocks the aircraft wheels, locks the cabin door, and we linger to watch him joining Beth in the Mercedes. There’s a complicity between them, something slightly arch and unspoken, and I know Mitch senses it too.

‘Pub,’ he grunts. ‘We need to talk.’