She breakfasted rapidly on an apple but couldn’t face the usual cereal bar or banana. She was just gathering her bags together when Anton emerged sleepily into the kitchen wearing a pair of boxers. ‘I just wanted to wish you the best of luck for today,’ he said. Delighted and a little surprised he had managed to rouse himself to see her off, she flung herself into his arms, and inhaled the warm male sleep aroma that rolled off him.

‘Anton, I am so nervous. My stomach is just full of butterflies. It’s such a responsibility.’

He held her by the shoulders and looked down into her face. ‘You are going to do a great job, Tish. Believe me. I have enormous faith in you. I’ll be right behind you every step of the way, do you understand?’ He kissed her hard and lifted her off the ground. ‘Go to it, girl.’

Pumped by such a rousing send-off, Leticia had a smile on her face as she stepped out of her front door and stared up into the wide blue sky that promised so much. If she handled this case well, then promotion was a possibility. Verity had hinted as much.

She walked up the street feeling a few inches taller than she had felt when she first got up. As she clicked the key fob of her car and saw the welcoming orange blink she thought. I can do this. I really can.

As before, there was nowhere to park on Wexford Road or in the adjoining streets. In the end, already a couple of minutes late, she left the little car illegally, as before, on a single yellow line near the main road. After checking there was no traffic warden about, she tugged out the heavy metal briefcase, slid her leather shoulder bag on and began to march back the 300 yards to the flat. She stepped around a grey wheelie bin and walked the three steps that took her from the front gate to the front door. The curtains were drawn at the bay window, and the ornate bevelled glass in the front door gave no clear view inside. She pressed the bell, which gave a long satisfying buzz in the hallway.

There was no reply.

She pressed her face to the glass of the door and tapped.

It was beginning to rain, so she let herself in with the spare keys.

‘Neil? It’s Leticia,’ she called. Getting no reply, she made her way into the kitchen, and dumped her bag and briefcase. The place smelled of fresh paint and cleaning products and looked pristine.

Except at the sink. There were fresh-looking coffee dregs around the plughole, and a plastic stirrer on the draining board.