‘Yeah,’ I said sarcastically. ‘I’m a genius. That’s why I drive a taxi for a living.’

He came closer. ‘You have a high need for cognitive stimulation. Others won’t provide it for you. Most jobs won’t either. So you fall back on the one person you can trust – yourself.’ He smiled. ‘But you’re enjoying this job. You’re stimulated now.’

I tilted my face up to his. ‘Well,’ I drawled, ‘you are standing very close.’

‘Joke all you like. I’m speaking the truth and you know it.’ He moved back.

‘If I were a genius,’ I declared too loudly, ‘I’d already have the smoking gun to put Adeptus Price away for life.’

‘Well then, we should get on and find it.’ Winter turned away and started rummaging through the top drawer.

I watched him for a moment, unwilling to acknowledge that he might be right with his daft theory, then I shrugged. Winter could analyse me all he wanted; it was a free country. I didn’t have to pay him any attention when he did it.

I left him to rifle through Price’s desk and turned to the filing cabinet. Perversely, it wasn’t locked. Of course: it was vital to lock your desk and keep sticky fingers away from your pens and pencils but when it came to confidential files, anyone could nab them. I rolled my eyes. Price might be a murderer and thief but he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.

I ran my finger along the files and whistled when I spotted one labelled ‘Cypher’. Ah ha. I slid it out and flipped it open, just as Winter stepped back onto my toe. I yelped and dropped the file. ‘Jeez!’

‘Sorry.’

‘I should think so,’ I grumbled. ‘Everyone knows muscle weighs more than fat and you weigh a ton.’

He smiled at my backhanded compliment. I knelt down to scoop up the file, angling my face upwards at Winter’s body as I did so. Perhaps there was something to working out at the gym. Not for me, naturally. But for him. Definitely for him.

I grabbed a sheet of paper that had scooted under the desk, stretching my fingers to reach it. As I did so, my attention was caught by something. ‘Winter,’ I said slowly.

‘I prefer it when you call me Rafe,’ he murmured.

‘Stop nattering,’ I tutted. ‘Come and look at this.’ I pointed to the underside of the desk. He hunkered down beside me and followed my finger, exhaling loudly when he saw the file taped there. ‘Do you think…’ I began.

‘Let’s not rush to any conclusions.’ He reached into his pocket and drew out a long set of tweezers. I shifted away to give him the room he needed and watched agog as he carefully prised the file away from the tape. He pulled it out with the delicate touch of a surgeon, stood up and placed it flat on the desk. I joined him.

It was Oscar Marsh’s file. His name was scrawled across the front in a sweeping cursive script and, just in case there was any confusion, the tab at the side proclaimed the same name. I held my breath as Winter used the tweezers to flip it open.