‘Well, I suggest you put it back where it was and ask DCI Murphy if you can move it.’

‘It’s only a desk, Katie.’

‘That’s not the point. The office is laid out the way it is for a reason.’

‘And what reason would that be?’ Jane asked, letting her annoyance show.

‘How would you like it if I just walked into your house and rearranged the furniture the way I wanted it to be?’

Jane shook her head in disbelief. ‘That’s a ridiculous comparison, but if it will make you feel better I’ll tell DCI Murphy I moved my desk and ask him if he’s OK about it.’

‘I’d still put it back where it was if I were you.’

‘It’s that heavy I nearly pulled a muscle moving it in the first place – so it can stay where it is for now.’

At that moment DCI Murphy walked into the office, followed by the Colonel and Teflon.

‘Everything all right, ladies?’ Murphy asked, sensing an air of hostility between the two women.

Katie was quick to answer before Jane could get a word in.

‘As you can see, DS Tennison has moved her desk. I told her she should have asked your permission before doing so.’

‘It’s fine there by me.’ Teflon gave Jane a wink.

Katie glared at him. ‘I was speaking to DCI Murphy.’

Murphy sighed. ‘It’s only a bloody desk, Katie. I couldn’t give a toss if Tennison wants to put it in the backyard, as long as she gets on with her work. Who owns that custard tart on wheels that’s parked in my space?’

‘If you’re referring to the yellow VW Golf, that’s mine, sir,’ Jane said.

‘Well, don’t park it there again. Someone get me a bacon and egg roll and a cup of tea.’

He slapped a pound note down on the desk and went into his office.

Jane frowned. ‘What’s the problem? There are plenty of spaces out there.’

Teflon smiled. ‘Yeah, but he likes the one nearest the entrance in case it’s raining. I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘Don’t move the kettle, Teflon, or all hell could break loose,’ the Colonel joked, and Jane smiled.

Katie grabbed the pound note before stomping out of the room to the burger van.

‘What’s up with her?’ Teflon asked.

‘Who knows?’ The Colonel shrugged. ‘Probably the wrong time of the month – either that or she’s desperate for a shag.’ He draped his jacket over the back of his chair, then threw his cap at the coat rack, where it landed on one of the hooks. ‘James Bond or what?’ he said with a grin.

‘Fiver says you can’t do it two out of three,’ Teflon challenged. ‘That was a bloody fluke, and you know it.’

The Colonel settled himself behind his desk.