He’d tried his best to get through the rest of that damn research paper and his other admin before leaving for home but had been unable to shake the intrigue of the conversation with Dani Stephens from his mind. It was gone eight p.m. when he arrived back home and darkness had long descended.

As Grant turned the car onto his drive he noticed that Francis’s Range Rover was back where it belonged, its dark polished metal gleaming in the electric haze from the overhead streetlights. Perhaps that was the end of the excitement there then.

For once there was no sign of the snoopy neighbour himself.

Grant parked up on his drive and headed inside. The downstairs of the house was quiet and he called out to Mary. She responded that she was reading, and Grant headed up the stairs and to their room where he found Mary lying on top of the bed in her dressing gown, her Kindle in her hand. Her face was caked in what could have been white paint, for all Grant knew, but was undoubtedly some ridiculously expensive moisturiser.

‘Long day?’ Mary said.

‘You could say that.’

‘There’s some dinner on the side for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Just some pasta.’

‘That’s more than fine.’

Grant moved over and sat down next to his wife on the bed.

‘Where’s Annie?’

‘Sleep over.’

‘On a Thursday night?’

‘Teacher training tomorrow.’

Grant rolled his eyes. ‘Sleeping over at a girl’s house, I hope.’

‘That’s what she told me, but you never know.’

Grant grimaced at the unwelcome thoughts forming in his mind, of his daughter doing things she shouldn’t be doing. Mary looked amused at his reaction. He quickly banished the images. He knew sooner or later his teenage daughter would succumb to the world of boys and sex, but he still hoped that would be at some point way in the future rather than now.

‘Anything from Ethan?’ he asked.

He noticed Mary slump slightly at his question. The mere mention of their son sucked the life out of both of them.

‘No,’ she said.

‘Me neither.’

‘This’ll be about the first day this week that I’ve not heard from the police either.’

Grant chuckled. ‘Yeah, about that…’

‘What?’ Mary said, sitting upright, expectantly.

‘I had a visitor today at work.’

‘The police?’

‘Detective Inspector Dani Stephens.’

‘What? The one who came to see me here the other day? What did she want? Ethan?’

‘No, not Ethan.’

‘You know it’s funny,’ Mary said. ‘I told her the two of you would have a lot to talk about. Do you remember her from the papers?’

‘Yeah. And you’re right, we did have a lot to talk about.’

‘Well go on then, tell me.’

‘Apparently she wants my help.’

Mary now looked quite impressed. And gratified, as though this was all her doing.