Jane felt he could have gone into more detail about the clothing and the cigar with the witness, but didn’t want to be critical as she knew the woman could be interviewed again.

‘She didn’t say they were acting suspiciously or looked nervous,’ he remarked.

‘Where’s Felstead Road?’ Jane asked, suspecting the men may have been involved and changed clothes.

‘Left out of Edgar House, then first left again.’

‘When you’ve finished at Edgar could you make enquiries in Felstead Road to see if anyone saw two men, or one carrying a black holdall?’

The sergeant looked at his watch. ‘Well, my lads are all early shift and off duty at two, but if you’re prepared to authorise some overtime we could . . .’

‘Three hours max, that’s all – get what you can done and hand the rest over to the late shift.’

‘You’ve also got Selsdon Road, which is off Blake Hall and directly opposite Felstead. The two men could have crossed the road before they got to Felstead—’

‘If you get nothing of use at Felstead then do Selsdon as well. Have you seen ADC Murray?’

‘Last time I saw him he went into the ground floor flat at the far end of the block there.’

‘Can you ask him to come and see me when he reappears?’

‘Will do.’

The sergeant went back to making his enquiries.

Returning to the garages, Jane saw the crew manager helping his colleagues reel in the hoses they had used to put out the fire.

‘Are you off now?’ she asked him.

‘Yes, we’re all done here. I’ll type up my report when I get back to the station and get it delivered to you . . . Sorry, I forgot your name,’ he said, taking out a pocket notebook and pen.

‘Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison – two n’s and one s.’

‘Do I address the envelope “The Sweeney” or “The Flying Squad”?’ he asked, trying to be funny.

‘Flying Squad, twelve Rigg Approach, which is just off Lea Bridge Road.’

‘I loved that TV series, The Sweeney. I don’t recall any policewomen working on the squad with Regan and Carter – they were right hard nuts who loved giving the villains a slap. Is it like that in real life?’

Jane ignored his remark.

‘Can you tell me if the garage door was locked or unlocked when you got here?’ she asked, recalling what the uniformed sergeant had told her.

‘I don’t know, we used some hooks attached to a winch to pull it from the frame. Hang on a minute.’

He walked over to the burnt and buckled garage door, which had been placed up against a high brick wall, and examined the lock.

‘I’d say it was locked—’

‘Are you sure?’ she asked him, realising the investigative importance of his observation.