‘Can you imagine if a member of staff snapped a picture of us with glasses of what looks like champagne in hand, and then leaving with bulging bags?’

‘Okay, you’re right,’ she conceded.

‘Look, if we get off at a reasonable time tonight, we can sneak off to the Ashoka Palace. My shout.’

‘So, what did you think of Morag?’

Gillard stroked his chin. ‘Pretty straightforward and honest. I’m not sure we learned anything.’

‘Did you notice that huge engagement ring?’

‘I saw she had some rings,’ he answered.

‘Most of them were costume jewellery. Only one had real gems. Emeralds,’ she said. ‘And on the engagement finger. Every time we mentioned Harry, her fingers strayed to caress the ring. I think she still likes him much more than she admits.’

‘So the fact that he is about to marry someone else might be significant.’

‘It is an arranged marriage,’ Claire said. ‘Mummy picked her out for him.’

Gillard looked up at Morag Fairburn’s grimy first-floor office. She was on the phone, but glanced down at the car from time to time. ‘Interesting.’

Gillard sat in the Khazi comparing notes with Research Intelligence Officer Rob Townsend and DC Carl Hoskins. ‘So, Rob, how we doing on chasing down the contents of Mrs Roy’s phone?’ Gillard asked.

‘It’s going steadily. She was a busy woman. Out of the 426 separate contacts, we’ve readily identified half of them who sent emails or texts, mainly work colleagues or people across the industry. We had more difficulty identifying who is behind some of the pay-as-you-go phone numbers.’ He turned to Hoskins.

‘I rang all sixty-two of those unknown numbers,’ Hoskins said. ‘Ignoring those which the family identified, which we are assuming to be kosher, I’ve spoken to thirty-seven. I left messages on a further nineteen, of which all but four have been returned. The rest had full message boxes, or in one case the number is no longer obtainable. There’s nothing on any of them to suggest anything weird was going on. I mean, the most suspicious was six attempted calls in quick succession on the Friday from one unregistered number, which turned out to be her hairdresser, wanting to change an appointment at short notice.’

‘Mrs Roy wore a wig,’ Gillard said.

‘I know,’ Hoskins replied. ‘But she did have some hair underneath, which must have needed dealing with from time to time. Don’t you think?’ The three male detectives looked at each other in tacit acknowledgement: they had no clue about middle-aged women’s hair requirements.

‘I’ll ask Claire,’ Gillard conceded.

Rob Townsend said: ‘We’ve had Harry Roy send out a blanket email across the company and family and friends, saying that he’s given permission for us to examine all emails and texts received on her phone or other devices, and asked any who have concerns about commercially confidential information to let him know as soon as possible. We’ve assured him that nothing will go beyond these four walls.’

‘Well, not necessarily just these four particular damp plywood walls,’ Gillard said, looking at the shadow of black mould just below the extractor fan. ‘I’ve asked DS Shireen Corey-Williams to cast an eye over the work emails. She’s got the financial background which will allow her to raise any flags that she comes across.’