“My dear lady,” Felix replied, “we’ll do them as quickly as we can, and you’ll be the first to hear, though I’d have thought you had enough on your suspect to bang him up for life.”

He turned to the student and gave a helping hand as he opened the heart.

“Look at this, Inspector. This poor bugger’s veins were so clogged up it’s a wonder he lived as long as he did. Classic English breakfast causes this; bacon, fat . . . You like a cooked breakfast, Inspector?”

Tennison glanced around the room; Jones had disappeared. She smiled to herself.

The students clustered around Norman and took notes as he went on, “Liver very dodgy, see just by the size . . . I hear through the grapevine that those wankers over at the labs can’t even find the winder from the victim’s watch. They’ve got fifteen square yards of carpet, combing it inch by inch. Right, now let’s have a look at his testicles . . . Hmmm, well-endowed gent.”

Tennison knew she had as much as she was going to get. “Thank you for your time, Professor Norman. As soon as you can on the—”

“You’ll have my report, Inspector, but you should give us the time to do our job properly. And next time, gown-up, you know the rules.”

He turned to pierce her with his gimlet eye, as though she were one of his students, but she was gone.

When the Western finished at midnight, Peter switched the television off, poured a fresh cup of black coffee and carried it to the dining area. As he set it down by Jane’s elbow she looked up, her eyes red-rimmed with fatigue.

“Thanks, love. I just have to wade through this mound, then I’ll come to bed . . .”

“Maybe you’d be better off having a sleep now and getting up early?”

“You must be joking, I’ll have to get up at five as it is, to plough through that lot on the chair.”

Peter planted a kiss on the top of her head, went back to the bedroom and settled down to sleep. In the end, Jane didn’t come to bed at all.

As Tennison entered the Incident Room at nine the next morning, the men fell silent. They watched her as she walked to the table and sat in the chair their guv’nor had occupied the day before. She could feel their hatred; it prickled her skin. She had not expected such open animosity and it threw her slightly.

She kept her eyes down, concentrating on her notepad, then took out her gold pen and carefully unscrewed the cap. She raised her head.

“By now you are all aware that I am taking over from DCI Shefford, and I would like to take this opportunity to say how saddened and deeply shocked I am by this tragedy. John Shefford was a well-liked and highly respected officer.” She met the gaze of each man in turn as she spoke; several of them couldn’t hold her eyes, one or two others, notably Otley, glared back, challenging her silently.