Archer addresses the room. ‘The victims all have friends and family so find out if anyone knows what might have happened. Os, get a court order together and get those images taken off social media.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘But ensure we get copies of everything.’

Os scribbles notes on his pad.

‘Klara, could you look into the CCTV from the Greenwich Peninsula over the past few days? Marian and Tozer, could you meet with Chau and Megan’s families and look after them? Give them what they need and find out what you can about them.’

‘What about this Frank Kelly?’ asks Quinn. ‘Strange that he hasn’t come forward, considering his wife is dead.’

‘Agreed. We’ll go talk to him after this meeting.’

Archer turns to Hicks and Felton. ‘DI Hicks and DS Felton, please follow up with the friends of Megan and Chau.’

Hicks curls his lips and nods once.

‘DS Quinn and I will follow up with Elaine Kelly’s family and friends.’

‘Ma’am,’ says Klara, ‘Jackie Morris mentioned Elaine’s son, Jordan. She has been asking around and no one has seen him or the father. Her address and contact details are on the third page. Oh, she also mentioned some pubs you could try if Frank Kelly isn’t at home.’

‘Thanks, Klara. Good work. That’s it, everyone. Good luck all and thank you.’

As the team disperses, Archer says, ‘DI Hicks, a word, please.’

She closes the incident-room door leaving only herself and Hicks inside.

‘Stop harassing Klara.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Klara is essential to this investigation.’

A half smile appears on Hicks’s thin lips. ‘I’m not sure what it is you’re implying.’

‘Better coppers than you have been fired for less. I’m warning you. Stop it now!’

The smile fades from Hicks’s face. ‘I don’t have a problem.’

Archer gathers her papers from the table. ‘You’ve been warned,’ she says as she leaves the incident room.

Dropping the papers on her desk she catches Quinn’s eye. ‘Shall we go?’

*

Archer drives an unmarked car through the evening rush-hour traffic as late-forecasted rain begins to pelt down across the city. Quinn has used Google maps to discover the location of Frank Kelly’s drinking holes. She drops him off at Thurlow Street. As he steps outside, cold November air floods the interior.

‘I’ll call you if I find anything,’ he says.

Archer nods, shifts gears and continues on her journey. With the wipers on full, she reaches the Aylesbury Estate in South East London just as the rain transforms into a full storm. Outside people scatter like mice running for shelter and a single umbrella floats twisted and broken on a small kerbside river. Archer spots a free parking space which is a loading bay outside a bathroom shop.