Of course, when this woman took on a new identity, she’d done a pretty good job of it. But it was never going to be perfect. It wasn’t really possible to start life all over again with the totally blank slate Rose Shepherd seemed to have craved. There were always a few threads that remained unbroken somewhere in any person’s life. No matter who she was, or where she came from, this woman was a product of all the experiences she’d gone through in sixty years of existence.

And in Miss Shepherd’s case, there must have been people in her life who she couldn’t entirely leave behind. Despite her change of identity, one of them had been bound to catch up with her some day. It was just a question of finding the right thread – the one that remained unbroken.

‘Did I tell you?’ said Cooper. ‘I think I might have found where the wooden dinosaur came from.’

During the briefing, Gavin Murfin had seemed fascinated by the shine on Kotsev’s shoes. He’d sat with his eyes permanently directed downwards, as if he’d been hypnotized.

‘What do you think of him, Gavin?’ asked Fry.

‘His shoes are very shiny.’

‘Are they?’

‘Yes, very military-looking. I bet he feels much more at home in uniform.’

‘All part of his professional manner, wouldn’t you say?’

Murfin sniffed, but didn’t take the bait. ‘By the way, West Yorkshire Police have no record of John Lowther on their local intelligence systems. But I tracked down a former colleague from the building society where he worked – a Mr Barrington. Apparently, the word around the office was that after Lowther left the company he was in hospital for quite some time.’

‘What for?’

‘Nobody ever knew. It was only a rumour that went round. Lowther’s resignation had come as a bit of a surprise, so there was some speculation about a mystery illness. You know the sort of thing. In those circumstances, people tend to assume cancer. In fact, Mr Barrington was surprised to hear that John Lowther was still alive.’

‘See if you can find out what was wrong with him, will you?’

‘That’s going to be difficult,’ said Murfin. ‘Even if the rumours are true, I don’t know what hospital he was in. I might be able to get the name of his GP in Leeds from the company’s personnel records, but you know what doctors are like . . .’

‘The rumour must have come from somewhere, though.’

‘Office rumours? That’s like catching feathers. People put two and two together and make them add up to whatever they want. It’s the same round here, in case you hadn’t noticed.’ Murfin shook his head. ‘There was one person Mr Barrington mentioned. Not a friend exactly, but someone John Lowther might have talked to a bit more than his other colleagues.’

‘Does he still work there?’