At Fracture Clinic Reception, he asks for Dr Goodison. The receptionist looks him up and down and says the doctor is with a patient but he might be able to pop out in a minute. ‘Tell him it’s not urgent,’ Lockhart says. You can’t really turn up in uniform at someone’s workplace and ask to see them without causing a bit of a stir.

He sits on one of the plastic chairs arranged along a wall in the waiting room. There is a smell of disinfectant and the parts of his trousers between the chair and the backs of his thighs become ever so slightly damp.

‘Officer?’

A tall young man with slick dark hair and a pale face has materialised in front of Lockhart. He must have moved quietly. He is standing quite close, looking down at him, with a greyeyed, assessing gaze. He is wearing a doctor’s coat.

‘Can I help you?’ Lockhart looks up and would stand at that point but hesitates because the doctor is so close to him, almost toe to toe, that if he levered himself upwards they would be nose to nose, which would feel oddly aggressive.

‘Are you the officer who asked for me?’ As if there were any other officers in the vicinity. The four patients ranged on other chairs are all staring at them.

‘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!’