‘Well, it’ll be good if you can keep busy. I’m going to the office this morning for a case conference, but I won’t be there for long.’

‘Do you think you’re getting close to finding out who did it?’

James shrugged. ‘It’s impossible to say. We’ve got no evidence that directly implicates any of the people we’ve spoken to in Charlie’s murder. I’ve a feeling this investigation will be a slog.’

‘What are the chances that the killer is someone outside the village?’

‘Pretty slim, I reckon,’ James said. ‘I’m convinced that whoever did it was familiar with Charlie’s routine of walking his dog across that particular field at that time of night. He or she probably got there first and waited behind the tree for him to show up, then struck.’

James thought Annie was going to ask another question, but instead she said, ‘You can bring me that cuppa in bed. I’ll stay here while you get showered and dressed.’

Forty minutes later, James slipped his suit jacket on over a shirt and tie and stepped into the kitchen. He put the kettle on to make fresh coffee and then sat at the table to check his phone for messages. He only had one and it was from his dad, saying how gutted he and the rest of the family were that they wouldn’t be coming up for Christmas. But they understood why.

James had spoken to his brother Ed last night and explained the situation. Ed had said that James and Annie should come to London, but James had explained that it wasn’t possible because of the investigation and the fact that Annie’s uncle had arrived early.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee he set about making a list of the things he had to do, including seeking out and interviewing Daniel Curtis, talking again to Sonia Jenkins and checking in with the forensic lab. He would also put in a call to his pal in the Met to see if he had an update on Andrew Sullivan’s whereabouts.

But first there was the conference at HQ where he was hoping to get an idea of how many people and resources would be assigned to the case. His plan was to set out at seven-thirty, which would allow him plenty of time to get there.

Annie came down after her shower and offered to make them both some breakfast.

‘Just toast for me, thanks,’ James said. ‘I don’t have much of an appetite.’

‘Mind if I turn the telly on?’ she asked.

‘Not at all. I was about to do that myself.’

It was a small TV that they’d recently had installed on the wall behind the breakfast bar.

As soon as it was on, Annie switched to Sky News and within minutes there was coverage of Charlie’s murder. But not much was new apart from an interview with a member of the media-liaison team who said there would be a press conference later in the morning.