“I am not attempting to step into his shoes; I am the only available DCI and as such I shall appreciate all the co-operation and assistance you can give to enable me to grasp all the details of the investigation and bring it to a successful conclusion. WPC Havers will be assisting me, and she will give you details of everything I need. I will work around the clock . . . You wanted to say something, Sergeant Otley?”

Otley was standing, rigid with anger, tight-lipped. “Yes, ma’am, I know you asked for this case specifically . . .”

She lit a cigarette and gazed at him, coldly. “If you don’t like it, put in for a transfer, through the usual channels. That goes for the rest of you; anyone who wishes to move can put in a formal request. Until then, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” A murmur of resentment went around the room, but she ignored it. “I’m asking for some more manpower. We’ve got more officers joining the team today, including Maureen Havers and four WPCs to assist with the paperwork.”

She picked up some items from the desk and began pinning them on the big notice-board. There were two photographs and two sets of fingerprints, highlighted with red and green arrows. She pointed at them as she spoke.

“Now, here’s the really bad news. The photo on the right is Deirdre “Della” Mornay; on the left is the murder victim. Here are the prints taken from the corpse, and these are the ones from Della Mornay’s Vice file. There are nothing like the sixteen points of similarity needed for a match. The victim’s clothes are all from expensive designers such as Giorgio Armani, not Della’s line at all. Della’s shoes are all English size five; our victim took six and a half, from Bond Street.”

She looked around as they took in the implications of what she was saying. Otley was stunned; he was aware of just how well Shefford had been acquainted with Della.

Tennison went on, “We have obviously wrongly identified the victim, which makes our suspect’s statement, in which he names the girl he picked up as Della Mornay, inadmissible. If we went to court with this, the case would be thrown out. Someone’s been bloody careless. The officer who interrogated Marlow—”

Recovering quickly, Otley went on the attack, interrupting her. “You know it was John Shefford! Are you tryin’ to destroy him before he’s even buried?”

She stared him into silence. “What I want to know is how come Marlow named the victim as Della when the warrant gave her proper name of Deirdre? I’m told you did not state her name at the time, you just arrested him on suspicion of murder. In the tapes of his first interrogation by Shefford, Marlow insists not just once but three times that he did not know the victim, but at the end of the second interview he refers to the victim as Della Mornay. In his written statement, made that night, he again denied knowing her. In his third statement he is calling the victim by name! This would be thrown out of court, especially as Marlow’s lawyer was in the room and witnessed his denials. The cock-up is therefore down to us. DCI Shefford made a gross error in wrongly identifying our victim, just as he did in giving the name to George Marlow.”