‘Hold on a moment,’ I said firmly. ‘With you being the baby’s father, it might give you a motive for wanting Simas out of the way. Are you sure you don’t have feelings for Indra?’ It occurred to me that Marta could be his alibi.

‘Of course I’m sure.’ He looked indignant. ‘I had no idea Indra had got pregnant.’ He stuffed his keys in his jacket pocket. ‘Why on earth would I want Simas and his girlfriend dead if I wanted to get together with Marta? It’s hardly going to help, is it?’ With that, he dashed past us and out of the room.

Maya, midnight

Maya, midnight

Beneath a cloudy sky, the streets of Whitechapel were full of shadows. Each time I moved, a shape appeared from a doorway or an alley, and the darkness seemed to swirl around me. The rain was a fine drizzle, the sort that made its way into your hair, ears and eyes, and drenched your clothing in minutes.

Under a thick coat, the stab-proof vest was tight, and the rain had already begun seeping through at the seams.

‘Please. You have change?’ A thin voice asked from the pavement. It was a teenage girl with deadened eyes, wrapped in a ripped tarpaulin, hair caked with dirt and despair.

I felt for some coins in my pocket and dropped them in her bowl. Was Ali here? Crashing in doorways and eating from bins?

My gloved hand went to my bag. I had to plough on for another hour, and keep distributing the photographs we had of Kenny Hayes and Ali. Once that was done, I wanted to get back home. It was time to read the Forensics report on the fingerprints on Mum’s phone. If Dad was alive, I had to know – even if it turned my world upside down.

SUNDAY

SUNDAY

Rosa, 7 a.m.

Rosa, 7 a.m.

‘It would help if you put the flipping light on. I can’t see a thing.’ Agnieszka’s tone was snappy.

She and Rosa were in the garden at the back of the newsagent’s. Once a much-loved family space, these days it was a mass of brambles and nettles.

‘Here. Let me do it.’ Agnieszka leant inside the ramshackle shed that had once housed the outside loo, and flicked the switch, but nothing happened. ‘Great. The bulb’s gone. What exactly are we looking for?’ It was the second time she’d asked.

‘Photographs of the funeral. I told you.’ Rosa was impatient. She’d been awake most of the night, unable to stop thinking about Maya and her family.

‘You got me out of bed at 7 a.m. to hunt for photos? Are you mad?’

Rosa yanked the handle on the rickety wooden door, trying to open it wider to let more light in. ‘Oww. Stupid fingers.’ She shook her hand and blew on it.

‘Let me do it before you do yourself any more damage.’