‘Yes, that’s right.’ Looking up at the doctor is giving Lockhart a crick in the neck and making him feel at a disadvantage so he stands and, as he does, the doctor takes a step back and Lockhart’s unease is dispelled.

The doctor extends his hand and his grip is warm and firm. He looks Lockhart right in the eyes and says to him, with a slight smile, ‘How can I help you?’ He runs a hand through his hair, which is ever so slightly greasy, and Lockhart notices the lock of white at one temple. He glances around and takes a few steps out into the corridor, to ensure they can’t be overheard by the people in the waiting room. The doctor follows.

Lockhart says, ‘I’m here to pick up a pathology report on a Thomas Warren. Lady at the mortuary said you’d been asking about him. I was just wondering why the interest, did you know him? Former patient?’

The doctor exhales, then says, ‘Are you investigating? It was a suicide, wasn’t it?’

‘Did you know Mr Warren?’

‘No, not at all, I’m just, I have an interest in the topic actually.’ His hesitation is so brief it is almost imperceptible. ‘Actually, it was my research speciality, mental health. I considered training in psychiatry but it seemed like a mad idea. Sorry, poor taste joke!’

It is much more than poor taste: it is bizarre. Dr Goodison’s own girlfriend died that way – even though he doesn’t know that Lockhart knows about that, it still seems an extraordinary remark. There is something about the man’s bonhomie, his blokiness, that sets Lockhart’s now-clean teeth on edge. It’s the man-to-manliness of it, the we’re just two professionals doing our job so we can josh amongst ourselves thing. It doesn’t work for him. ‘Unofficially, we’re not looking for anyone else in connection with Mr Warren’s death,’ he says. ‘But obviously it’s up to the Coroner to ascertain the precise circumstances surrounding the incident.’

‘So it’s just like the other one then, a suicide? Not been all that lucky on that station.’

Lockhart has to pause for a moment here – can Goodison really be that callous, or is he just covering up his own emotional pain with a pretence?

‘We’re pretty sure it was a suicide, yes.’

‘Well, interesting. Listen, I can walk you down to the mortuary if you like, it’s easy to get lost in this place, even the staff do sometimes.’

‘Do you have the time?’

‘Technically it’s my lunch break, although morning clinic is overrunning of course, but I can show you the way quickly. There’s a short cut, back route, outside and in again, as long as it’s not raining out there, that is.’ The doctor turns to the receptionist behind the desk and lifts his hand, splaying his fingers in a five minutes gesture. The receptionist looks back at him with raised eyebrows.