That one was met with an absolute roar of laughter and Lively seemed to be enjoying the attention in spite of the fact that it came wrapped in a bow of insults. Ava looked from Overbeck to Lively. It was only a few months since she’d caught her heel-toting, self-declared queen bitch of a superior in flagrante delicto with the dour, die-hard sergeant and she still hadn’t been able to wipe the memory from her mind. They were about as unlikely a couple as you could imagine and yet Overbeck had still managed to make Ava feel as if she was the sad case.

‘Ach, you love me really, ma’am,’ Lively aimed, bravely, at Overbeck.

Ava waited for the superintendent’s explosion. Their affair wasn’t public knowledge and Lively was asking for trouble by sparring with her in front of the squad.

‘That’s right, Sergeant,’ Overbeck said with a smile. ‘Like I love my shoes. I get to tread on them every day, they go where I decide and if there’s any crap, the shoes get it on them rather than me personally. Then, when they get old and scruffy, I throw them in a bin and it’s as if they never existed.’

That one got not just a laugh, but also a round of applause. Overbeck looked genuinely pleased with herself rather than merely supercilious. Ava couldn’t believe it. Sergeant Lively got away with so much bullshit and now Overbeck wasn’t even rebuking him, just adding to his kudos points with the lads.

‘All right,’ Overbeck said when her ego had sucked in enough of the jollity. ‘Our newest team member worked with us before on a temporary placement before going off on maternity leave. I’m delighted to say she’ll now be joining you full time, so please don’t any of you reveal your true natures until she’s settled in a while. Stand up, if you would, DC Janet Monroe.’

The short, neat Hispanic officer stood up, her dark hair shining in a perfect bun, looking completely at ease in the predominantly male room. Ava was keen to recruit more females into MIT, but it was slow-going and not helped by the locker-room atmosphere. Janet Monroe was tough, smart and more than a match for her new colleagues.

‘And, finally, your new detective inspector. Not shipped in from Interpol, I’m afraid, but perhaps you’ll actually be able to understand this one’s accent …’

There it was, the dig at Callanach. Ava had been waiting for it. She looked across the room to Callanach, who gave a simple shrug. He was used to the abuse.

‘Transferring to us with promotion after a long and distinguished period working with undercover teams across Scotland, Detective Inspector Pax Graham.’