“Cremated? Good God, no, a Christian burial is what I want for my daughter . . .”

“Then the delay should be minimal, Major. I’ll see to it personally,” Tennison promised. “I think perhaps the questions I need to ask you can wait until you have had a chance to recover. I will arrange for a car to take you home . . .”

“I want to speak to Commander Trayner. If I didn’t make myself clear in the first place, woman, then let me repeat to you, I refuse . . . I will not have . . . I will not have a female in charge of this case.”

Tennison was about to reply when Burkin caught her eye. He gripped her elbow and whispered, “Leave the room, let him cry, leave him . . .”

She allowed herself to be steered from the room. She stood in the corridor, angry at first, then looked through the small glass panel in the door. She could see the major; he slammed his fist into the top of the bare table.

“I have many friends, I know many people who could take over this investigation . . .” Then he disintegrated like a helpless child, his body sagged and he held out his arms, in desperate need of comfort from anyone, a stranger, even the Detective Inspector . . .

Gently, Burkin held the heartbroken man as he sobbed his daughter’s name over and over.

Tennison felt inadequate and ashamed of herself for being so eager to question the major. In his grief and rage he had turned to the young Inspector, not to her. For a long time he wept in Burkin’s arms.

Listening to him, Tennison was flooded with sympathy.

Eventually the door opened and Burkin emerged.

“He’s ready to go home now. I’m sorry, ma’am, if I was rude, but I could see the old boy was . . .”

“You were quite right, Frank. Don’t worry about it.”

He started back into the room, then paused and turned. “Oh, Sergeant Otley wants you at HQ.”

“Did he just call you?”

Burkin evaded her gaze. “Came in while we were in Brighton. Karen’s boyfriend and flatmates have been brought in for questioning. Sorry . . .”

“I see! In future, pass on any information immediately, no matter the circumstances. I’ll go there now, you see to the major. Was there anything else?”

Burkin shook his head. She watched him closely as she said, “Otley stirring it up, is he? Next thing, he’ll be going for a vote of no confidence.”

His sudden flush was enough to tell her she’d hit the nail on the head.

Burkin had been greatly moved when the major, with a tremendous effort, had pulled himself together and said he was ready to go home, ready to tell his wife, and that he would be available the next morning to answer any questions. He had even asked Burkin to apologize to Inspector Tennison on his behalf for his rudeness.