‘He looks so crestfallen,’ laughs Stefan. ‘Hanging his head like a schoolboy. Oh, here we go – news van up ahead. I’d best let you out. You can go do your thing.’

Daniells sighs. He doesn’t really know what his ‘thing’ is. He’s good at his job, he knows that. And the two police officers he rates the highest, rate him in return. He can’t help wondering what the sergeant has done to irritate the boss, and how much of a knock-on effect it will have to his day. Usually he’s the target of Pharaoh’s ire. He doesn’t like it when she and McAvoy are at loggerheads – it reminds him of when Mum and Dad used to fight.

A sudden rap on the window startles him. He jerks in his seat. Gathers himself, grinning awkwardly, as he buzzes down the window. A man in a surgical face mask is jogging on the spot; grey hoodie and shorts that show thick, well-muscled legs.

‘Help you?’

‘Happening?’ asks the jogger, gesturing at the scene. ‘Somebody hurt?’

‘And you are?’ asks Daniells, friendly.

‘Live over the way,’ says the runner, vaguely. There’s mud on his legs, sweat on his brow. Above the mask, his blue eyes are hidden beneath thick, dark brows. He’s older than Daniells. Maybe late fifties, though it’s hard to tell. The Covid-19 outbreak has caused no end of problems for detectives. Face masks are no longer just the preserve of criminals.

‘Up with the lark, I see,’ observes Daniells, slipping into the role of friendly, unflappable copper. ‘They’ll want you behind the line, wherever that is. Just arrived myself, as you can see …’

‘Burglars, was it? Druggies?’

Daniells gives his best smile. ‘That a problem around here, Mr …?’

‘Bad in Withernsea,’ he says, pressing his fingers to his neck and counting his pulse. ‘Plays merry hell with the house prices. Little sods smashed up half the graves in the cemetery a few years back and it knocked a fifth off the market value. Few headlines like that and a place is done in.’

‘Well, as I say, we don’t know what’s happened here.’

‘Burglars, I’ll be bound,’ he says, again, looking past Daniells to the handsome man in the driving seat. He takes in the cut of the suit; the Chanel Monsieur watch on his wrist. ‘Some lovely holiday properties for sale at the moment, perfect time to buy …’

‘Not just now, sir,’ says Daniells, a little more forcefully. He doesn’t like being overlooked. Doesn’t like being take off-guard.

‘Sorry, sorry, I’ll leave you be.’

Daniells nods, feeling a little out-of-sorts. He turns back to Stefan, about to apologize for this and that and everything else. Spins back when a thought occurs. ‘Excuse me, we’ll be …’ The jogger is already disappearing down the dark road. ‘Bugger,’ finishes Daniells.

‘That was all very exciting,’ says Stefan, drily. ‘Right. I’ll be seeing you when I see you.’

Daniells deposits his breakfast bowl on the dashboard and gathers up his laptop and papers from the floor. As he bends forward, a Twix falls out of his jacket pocket. He gathers it up, rises, and sees Stefan looking at him, hard.