‘Home-made?’ Hodges asked through a thick mouthful.

‘Yes, gluten-free, and a dairy-free, cruelty-free filling,’ she said brightly, handing the last and particularly large slice to DCI Gillard. ‘This is for you, for being so kind and gallant as to rescue me so quickly on that first horrific day.’ She kissed him on the cheek, then floated out of the room, leaving them all in stunned silence.

Gillard was not prone to embarrassment, but this was something else. He couldn’t meet the gazes of all the subordinates, which were focused on his face.

Hodges, having finished his slice, was gazing lustfully at Gillard’s. ‘Nice to get the full labelling of allergens, I thought. Just like my boxers: “May contain nuts”.’

‘Thank you for lowering the tone, Colin,’ Claire said. ‘We can always rely on you.’

The door opened again and a female officer leaned in. ‘DCI Gillard, call for you. City of London Police. It’s about Deepak Tripathi.’

Gillard reluctantly left his cake to answer the call. He was pretty sure that would be the last he’d ever see of it.

Chapter 22

Mehmet Ozul was the franchisee of Chicken Express, and had been brought in to Mount Browne for questioning because DI Claire Mulholland was far from happy with the answers he had given when uniformed officers had gone to visit him at the takeaway shop. Ozul was a corpulent, swarthy fellow, and looked like he should have been a bouncer. Probably useful when the local drunks came flooding in to his shop after the pubs had closed. ‘So let’s start again, shall we,’ Claire said, looking down at her notes. ‘You say you have never seen this man before?’ She pushed a photograph of Zayan Lal, one she had borrowed from Morag Fairburn, across the table.

‘That’s right.’

‘And you didn’t recognise him when he came into your shop?’

‘No. We get lots of one-off customers. I know a few by sight, and even fewer by name. If you say he was there, okay, then he was there.’ He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘But I don’t know him.’

‘This man is a fugitive from justice,’ Hodges said, tapping the picture. ‘We know he was in your shop, and either he is familiar enough to know there is a back way out, or he had a conversation with a member of your staff who told him.’

‘We need your co-operation,’ Claire said.

‘I am giving it, innit?’

‘And I really think someone must have seen something,’ Hodges said.

‘How long has your CCTV not been working?’ Claire asked.

‘About a week,’ Ozul said.

‘Must be a problem,’ Claire said. ‘You need to get it sorted. Casual staff at the till, drunken customers.’ She shook her head as if the problems of running a takeaway shop were familiar to her.

Ozul nodded.

Hodges slapped down a thick pile of papers in front Ozul. ‘Here are the call logs of all the phones, yours and staff,’ he said tapping at the documents. ‘Find me the number of your security company, and show me when you called them.’