“Take the ladies to a table, sir, at the far end out of everybody’s way, and I’ll arrange some refreshments.” He watched, shaking his head, as the four of them seated themselves, then turned to the counter.

The two canteen workers were about to haul the shutter down, but he scuttled over. “Hang about, Rose! I want four coffees for this lot, on the house. I’ll get you a docket later.”

The other woman walked off in a huff, not even attempting to serve him. The charming Rose muttered to herself as she turned to the steaming urn and drew four cups of pale brown liquid, banged them on the counter. Otley loaded them onto a tray. “Thanks, darlin’!”

He plonked the tray on the table, slopping the contents of the cups, and told them they would have to wait for Inspector Tennison to return. Then with a brief apology he wandered off.

He passed Maureen Havers, who had stopped to chat to DC Lillie.

“Have you heard, they’re bringing in Hicock to replace her?”

Otley’s ears flapped. “What was that? Hicock?”

“Yeah, I got it from the Super’s secretary.”

Otley nearly danced for joy. “Great! Now we need a get-together, get a report done . . .”

DI Muddyman joined them. “What am I missing?”

“Word’s out that they’re bringing in Hicock, Tennison’s gonna get the big E . . .” Otley beamed. “We better give them a little assistance, I’ll get a vote of no confidence going. That’ll teach the pushy bitch.”

He was almost rubbing his hands in glee as he headed out of the canteen. DC Lillie was more interested in the group of girls in the corner. He nudged Jones.

“Eh, I thought all the toms were downstairs? I wouldn’t mind interviewing that lot. Who’s the puff with the ponytail?”

Jones prodded Lillie in the chest. “They’re the victim’s flatmates, you prat!”

“What, you got an ID on her?”

“Not official, we gotta wait for the Queen Mother! Skipper’s sortin’ it out, sent her off to Brighton.”

The men laughed amongst themselves, while Karen’s four friends waited and waited for someone to tell them why they had been brought in, tell them anything at all. Officers came and went, but no one approached them. Michael was growing impatient, but he realized the long wait meant something terrible had happened. No one answered his questions, no one would tell him if Karen had been found.

“Was it Coombe Lane, ma’am?”

“Yep, should be off to the left . . . Yes, this is it. Oh, yeah, very posh.”

Tennison licked her fingers, then sniffed them. They smelt of fish and chips. She took a perfume atomizer from her bag and sprayed herself quickly.

They cruised slowly along Coombe Lane and stopped at a barred gate with a sign, “The Grange.” Tennison hopped out to open it. The tires crunched on the gravel drive and they both looked around, impressed.