He nodded. It was. Went into the hall and opened the door. Receding hairline, brown eyes, big sideburns and stubble you could strike a match on. Combined with a snub nose and slightly wonky jawline that had mapped his career as effectively as phrenology or palmistry. A certain degree of photogenicity; a major assist in the climb to senior ranks these days.

That, and what the evaluators now labelled emotional intelligence. Or common sense, in old speak. A genetic trait which, Mickey had known since those early days, Jason had never been overly blessed with. That Jason had made it as far as DI was testament to a metric fucktonne of hard work. And, it was clear to all around him, the limit of his realistic ambition.

‘Evening, Jase, we were just talking about you.’ The plain-clothes inspector looked back at him levelly. A uniformed constable was lurking at the end of the path behind him. ‘And one of the ugly sisters to keep you company, I see. I suppose his twin’s waiting at the back gate?’

Another moment of considered silence.

‘Good evening. And yes, since you ask, there is an officer at the back. SOP.’

He grinned back knowingly.

‘Yeah, SOP. So… I’d invite you in, but I’ve got an early start.’

‘We could always talk down at the nick.’

‘Really? That old line? Come on then.’ Looked past the inspector as he wiped his feet. ‘You want a cuppa, sunshine?’ Got a big smile back from the uniform on the gate. ‘I’ll do a couple. NATO standard, right?’

Led Felgate through into the kitchen and reached for mugs.

‘NATO for you?’

‘No sugar, thank you, Sergeant Bale.’

‘Sergeant Bale? I remember the days when we were Mickey and Jase. The two daftest kids on the relief, always fucking something up.’

‘This is serious, Mickey.’

‘It’s Mickey now, is it? That’s something, I suppose. And yes, murder usually is quite serious.’

His former beat buddy levelled the stare again. Waiting in silence for anything more. After a minute of watching Mickey fill cups with boiling water he spoke again.

‘Who said anything about murder?’

And recoiled as Mickey turned on him. Faster than any man of his age had any right to move. Putting on the anger, just as he’d put on the studied nonchalance earlier. Held the other man’s gaze for a hard-eyed moment. Then turned away and got on with the teas. Stirring the bags and then spooning them out, after a ritualistic squeeze with another teaspoon.

‘Fucking right you can look nervous. Cut out the mind games, Jason. I said murder because there’s a white tent been put up on the High Road. That being a bit of an overkill for the average Friday night punch-up.’

‘You were on the High Road?’

Leaning back, raising an eyebrow in affected disgust.