DC Stone smiles tightly. ‘We just wanted a quick word with Mr and Mrs Packard. We’ll come back later.’

‘Well, I hope you’ve caught the little prick. It makes me sick, scumbags like him preying on women and children.’ She pushes away the nagging voice that’s calling her two-faced.

‘So you know about Beth’s concerns then?’ DC Stone asks casually.

Something snaps. It’s her patience. ‘Excuse me, did you say Beth’s concerns? That’s bloody typical.’ God, her head is pounding now. ‘Shift the blame to the victim, especially if they happen to be a woman. He’s the scumbag here, not Beth.’

‘You probably want to be careful what you say,’ the other one pipes up.

‘Oh so it’s my fault now, is it? Do you want to arrest me, or shall I get in line behind my best friend?’

DC Worthing lets out a loud, exasperated sigh. ‘Listen, the man Beth claims to be her stalker is currently unconscious in St George’s Hospital with his mum crying by his bedside, so maybe cut down on the insults, yeah?’

Saskia blinks. It’s not like her to be speechless, but the wind has definitely been knocked out of her sails. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she finally asks.

‘We can’t say,’ DC Stone interjects. ‘We’re heading back to the station now; I’ll give Mr Packard a ring.’ Both detectives move towards the gate, and Saskia steps back to let them through.

‘Is it drugs, like his so-called friend?’ she asks.

DC Stone pauses and turns to face her. ‘I understand that you’re worried about Beth,’ he says kindly. ‘But it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to share those details.’

‘I only ask,’ Saskia persists, ‘because two overdoses so close together might mean there’s stronger-grade heroin on the street. Or that it’s been cut with dangerous impurities.’ She tries to sound knowledgeable. ‘I read an article about it. I support a local drug charity, you see, write content for their website, and I’d like to let them know if there’s anything to worry about.’

‘That is true,’ DC Stone admits, nodding. He seems to have more time for her now that he realises that she’s not just a champagne socialist. ‘But it would have been flagged directly after Jon Smith’s death, the man Beth called the ambulance for, if the street heroin was deemed a problem.’

Saskia creases her forehead. ‘I don’t understand?’

‘Jon died of a stroke, an air aneurism caused by a bubble getting into the syringe, rather than the drug itself,’ DC Stone explains. ‘Which actually isn’t that uncommon.’

‘Really? I’ve never heard of it,’ she counters, not quite understanding why she’s positioning herself as a drugs expert.