‘Forgive me if you’ve been asked this before, but can you think of any reason why your daughter would miss such an important concert?’

‘None whatever. This was, as I’m sure you know, at St Martin-in-the-Fields, raising money for refugees. It was probably the most high-profile event she had been involved with to date. I know the entire quartet had been practising very hard for it, because Beatrice told me so.’

‘Does she suffer from stage fright or nerves? Had she just broken up with a boyfriend? Anything like that?’

The minister shook his head. ‘No, she is very focused in front of an audience, and has a steady relationship with a young man she has known for many years in Germany.’

‘Has she ever suffered from depression or any other mental health issues?’

He licked his lips. ‘Well, when she was a teenager she went through a difficult time. She tried to cut her wrists because of some bullying at school, but that was a long time ago. Of course no parent, particularly a father, can ever pretend to know the secret life of their own daughter, but as far as I’m aware she has been incredibly happy to be doing what she loves doing, and by all accounts doing it exceedingly well. Beatrice has such a bright future ahead of her.’ He paused and wiped a paw of a hand across his eye, as if there was a speck there. He blinked a few times, and reached for a handkerchief. The word entschuldigung was muttered as he did so. Excuse me.

Gillard averted his gaze. The tears of a minister, particularly a minister of justice, must be some of the most rarefied and precious fluids on earth. But then family is in a different galaxy to affairs of state, however heart-wrenching they may be. The detective glanced up at the security man, and saw contrast. A meat-wrapped package of invincibility, expressionless as a wall.

‘When did you last speak to her?’ Gillard asked the minister.

‘Not for two weeks, to my shame. I have a few week-old text messages from her, which I did not get round to replying to, but answered at length only yesterday. Much too late, of course.’ He looked up, drenched in regrets.

‘What did she ask?’

‘She wanted me to come to the concert. And then she reminded me in the next message, saying how important it was to her. I was too busy of course. I’m always too busy.’

Gillard wasn’t going to ask him about those late replies, but the minister’s confessional was not completed. ‘I told her I loved her. I told her that if she ever had any problems we would always be there for her, her mother and I. Always. I asked her to ring me as soon as possible.’

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Gillard spoke. ‘I take it you have not received any messages which could be construed—’

‘No. I am not rich. It would make no sense.’