He nodded. She registered the correct entry before spinning it around for James to see. There, by her long fingernail, was his mother’s name. The facts came rushing at him. December, 1980. Mrs Rebecca Brandt. Seventeen charges. Shoplifting.

‘If the fax comes through after two, I’m going to have to leave it for you to collect at the police station next door, that alright?’ she said, waving her arm towards the thick glass panels of the side door, through which the familiar blue and white police sign showed. ‘There’ll be a duty officer over there later.’

‘No worries,’ James said.

‘Listen, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but we’re all so sad about Tony,’ she said. ‘My younger sister Louise was in his year at school.’

‘Was she?’ James said, eyes still in the charge book scanning for more information.

‘Yes,’ she said, picking up her coffee. ‘She was Leanne Jenkinson’s best friend. Tony and Leanne used to go on double dates with Louise and her boyfriend, Johnny Jones.’

The names crowded between them, and James sensed they were about to play the old game. The rules were always the same, for him: never reveal too much. She’d ask if James was married, after she’d said kind things about his work at the newspaper.

‘Louise and Johnny broke up, but Leanne and Tony had that lovely big wedding, remember?’

James nodded vacantly, trying to concentrate on why he knew the name Johnny Jones, but Denise didn’t give him a chance.

‘How’s your dad liking his retirement?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I think he’s enjoying himself,’ he replied, about to backtrack to Johnny Jones.

But she ploughed on. ‘We gave him a good send off at the bowling club,’ she said. ‘Everyone joked it was a great night to rob a bank in any town in the border country, seeing as every cop across the district was out drinking with Detective Constable Daniel Brandt.’

James grunted out a laugh.

‘That is if there were any banks up here. They’ve all closed now,’ Denise said, and laughed ruefully. ‘You know, I used to babysit you, and your brother,’ she added, relaxing against the desk. James recognised the body language. He’d gotten great quotes out of witnesses offering themselves at that angle.

‘I remember,’ James said, even though he didn’t. Now would be the moment. ‘Listen, are you able to look up stuff about other cases on the computer?’

One corner of her mouth sprang back to the middle. ‘I’m not supposed to have given you what I did,’ Denise said, licking her lips quickly, ‘but we all make exceptions, you know, when we know someone.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t normally ask, but Dad’s been pretty cut up about Tony. We all are...’