Jane realised there was at least some truth in what Katie said about Kingston. He had given her valuable advice. She grabbed another wad of tissues and dabbed some more of the blood off Katie’s lip.

‘My advice would be to break it off with Kingston. I know from personal experience work relationships are doomed to fail, especially when a married man is involved.’

Jane looked up to see Murphy framed in the doorway with a surprised look on his face.

‘What the fuck’s going on?’ he exclaimed.

Jane glared at him. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’

*

Jane sat opposite Murphy as he read her pocket notebook and Rachel Wilson’s notes. She could feel the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. At first, he’d accused Katie of lying, but when Katie said she would report him to the Commander in charge of the Flying Squad, and back Jane up, he quickly capitulated, though he was adamant he’d never told Katie to break into Jane’s desk drawer. He didn’t apologise to Jane, but did agree to listen to her about the Wilson sisters and the possible suspects in the robbery, and read her notes with an open mind.

Murphy turned another page of Jane’s notes, then opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the bottle of whisky and two glasses. He poured some whisky into one glass, picked it up and took a sip.

‘This is good stuff.’

‘My notes or the Scotch, sir?’

‘Both. Do you ever take a “wee dram”?’

‘Now and again.’

He poured her a glass and slid it across the table. She picked it up and took a sip.

‘Cheers.’

‘I wish the rest of the team made notes that are as detailed and thorough as this.’

She wondered if he was being sincere, or just embarrassed about his underhandedness being exposed and trying to get back into her good books.

‘Do you feel what I’ve uncovered so far merits further investigation?’

‘I might. Have you discussed these notes with anyone else on the team?’ he asked, handing them back to her.

She hesitated for a second. ‘No, not yet.’

She didn’t want to land Kingston in it, despite his behaviour in the pub.

He nodded. ‘Fine. I’ve got a few more questions – then I’ll decide the appropriate course of action.’

He topped up both their glasses.

Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘How many cops does it take to throw a prisoner down the stairs?’ the Colonel asked, grinning at the others seated around the table.

‘None, he fell,’ Cam answered, and everyone laughed even though they’d heard the joke before.

Stanley put his hand in the whip glass and removed some pound notes.

‘Same again, lads?’

There were nods and yeses around the table.

‘Stewart, phone call for you!’ the landlord shouted from behind the bar.

The Colonel tutted. ‘That’ll be your missus wondering what you’re up to.’