Inside, it was difficult to say how long the party had been in progress; at least since early/mid evening, she surmised, judging by the scene of good-natured chaos. Lots of figures, mostly male but with one or two females, were grouped around the scattered tables or propping up the bar. The lighting was low-key, the background music hard rock. In the far corner, under a single bright lamp, there was a pool table. Here DI Blake, still in the same scruffs she’d been clad in that morning, minus her weapon and body armour of course, though still wearing her chequer-banded firearms cap – probably at the insistence of her troops – only now at a jaunty angle, was pocketing balls in every direction, to the accompaniment of riotous cheers from the men gathered there.

Yet again, Lucy was impressed by the DI’s mere demeanour.

Kathy Blake was such a girlish figure, and yet she wasn’t ‘girlie’, if such a distinction could be me made. She moved and spoke with a confidence that only stemmed from being completely in her comfort zone even in this most macho of police cultures. Her natural authority evidently owed to her personal knowledge and expertise, but there was more to it than that – there was sexual control too. Units like the Robbery Squad, who by their nature tackled the worst the underworld could throw at them, tended to appeal to some of the roughest customers on the force. But while DI Blake might be doing the ladette thing now, that clearly wasn’t her normal style. Lucy had seen her dress smartly and attractively for formal occasions; she’d seen her neat blonde ponytail, her tasteful make-up. Kathy Blake could clearly do it either way. She was a pretty woman in a man’s world, which often made the men concerned feel good about themselves, but by the same token she knew what she was doing, which meant that she could make decisions and pull rank whenever she needed to. They might not admit it, but the guys would like that about her too – good, firm leadership was always popular. Plus, if she decided it was time to get raucous and rough it with the troops, she could do that as well – and they would like that about her most of all.

‘You look nervous,’ someone said alongside her.

Lucy turned and saw Ruth Smiley in a black polo shirt and tight jeans, with what looked like a different exotic cocktail in each hand.

‘Not nervous exactly,’ Lucy said.

‘Good.’ Smiley took a long sip from the straw on her left. ‘Because trust me, some of this lot can sniff out a prey animal from five-hundred paces.’

‘Just wondering whether I should even be here.’

Smiley guffawed. ‘Get out of it … this is a do for the Squad and friends.’ She nodded across to the far side of the room. ‘So, you certainly fit it.’