Leticia rejoined the group, thinking perhaps she should rescue her boss. The first thing she did was dissuade her from ordering another bottle. ‘Actually, Verity…’ Leticia said, gently tugging back her arm, which was waving a credit card towards the barman.

‘What?’ She eyed her subordinate quizzically.

‘I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?’ Leticia said.

‘No, s’all right,’ Verity slurred. ‘I can afford it now. I’ve come into some money. And I need a drink.’

‘Actually, Verity, it’s been a lovely evening, but it might be a good idea to think about heading home.’ She could immediately feel the chill of disappointment among Verity’s fair-weather friends. ‘Are you getting a taxi?’

‘I’ve got my car.’ She pointed vaguely in the direction of Swan House.

‘You can’t possibly drive in this state. I’ll ring for a cab. Where’s your gift?’ Leticia recalled that Jill had secretly bought Verity a beautiful Italian soft leather briefcase on behalf of the department, and had presented it just before she left the office.

Verity looked puzzled for a minute, then said: ‘In the boot.’

‘If you give me the keys I’ll go and get it for you,’ Leticia said. She smiled icily at Verity’s new friends, who were reluctantly draining their drinks and getting ready to leave.

Keys now in hand, Leticia walked back to Swan House and found Verity’s Nissan in the car park. She clicked the fob, and the lights flashed orange. She flipped open the boot and saw the new briefcase still partially in its silvery wrapping paper.

As she lifted it up, she felt it snag. Something was stuck to the trailing sticky tape on the parcel. She peered underneath, and gasped. A slender object was caught in the recessed catch for the boot. She recognised it immediately, but could not imagine how on earth it came to be there. If she was right about what it was, it would change everything that had happened since Tuesday.

Absolutely everything.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Leticia set down the parcel and tore off a strip of the silvery wrapping, then carefully untangled the tiny metal hinge of the broken spectacle arm from the threads of the boot liner. She held up the slender red plastic for a closer look. Yes, it looked just like his. She wrapped it carefully and put it in her pocket.

The young probation officer was in a quandary as she walked back to the bar. Verity wouldn’t have had any official contact with Neville Rollason, and there could be no good reason for part of his glasses to be in the boot of her car. She simply couldn’t think of an innocent explanation; but neither could she imagine that her boss would have had anything to do with his abduction and murder. Who should she turn to?