‘No. A few calls to GR Motors about MOTs, servicing, et cetera, and O’Reilly ordering booze and crisps for the snooker club. Ripley’s wife, Maureen, has been on and off the phone all morning to caterers and friends about the wedding. You’ll like this – she’s talking to a friend of hers about the flowers.’

The officer rewound the tape and turned it on. She spoke in a screechy cockney accent.

‘The flowers are costin’ a bloody fortune. I could ’ave a dirty weekend in Southend for the price of the bridal bouquet . . . I mean, it’s a total load of bollocks, all this flingin’ it over your shoulder to the single gals,’ Maureen said.

‘Oh, don’t be mean, whoever catches it will have a future filled with love and happiness,’ her friend replied.

‘Well, I caught me sister’s and she ended up shaggin’ me first ’usband. All it did was fill me with a desire to cut ’is knackers off with a pair of scissors!’

Murphy laughed. ‘Ouch, I wouldn’t like to upset her. Let us know if you hear anything of interest.’

*

It was just after 3 p.m. The cafe was empty, and Nick put the closed sign on the door. Jane popped upstairs with the coffee cups and put them in a plastic bag in her shoulder bag. She then radioed in that the cafe was closing. Cam said Murphy wanted her to return to the station.

‘You done good work today, Jane,’ Nick said as she put her coat on.

She felt exhausted. ‘It’s been a long time since I was on my feet for so long. I wish I’d worn my trainers instead of my thin flat soles.’

‘You gonna come in tomorrow?’ he asked, opening the door.

‘I expect so, but it’s up to my boss. Arrivederci, Nick.’

Walking to her car, Jane thought about Kingston and wondered if he was corrupt and involved with the Ripley brothers. If he had lied, then Betty could be in danger. She knew if she told Murphy, or anyone on the team, she risked being ostracised for daring to question an experienced and respected officer’s integrity. She took a deep breath and blew it out in an effort to unclutter her mind. Seeing a public phone box, she dialled the lab and asked to speak to Paul Lawrence.

‘The Chubb key is still in the superglue chamber, but it looks like a finger mark is starting to develop.’

‘What size was the footprint on the toilet seat?’

He looked in his notes. ‘It’s a nine to ten Nike training shoe. Why?’

‘I thought one of our suspects called Aidan O’Reilly might have gone to the Crown last night to kill Fiona Simpson. He’s six foot four, so that shoe size seems unlikely for a man that tall.’