From the way Randy was looking at them, Fleet suspected he would hold out to have his question answered first. As well as being a prima donna, Randy was a notorious collector of gossip. He didn’t spread it (as far as Fleet knew) but he loved to hoard it, the way he reportedly hoarded fine wines and – so the rumours went – his own press clippings.

But he evidently had a soft spot for Nicky.

‘I do, my dear,’ he conceded. ‘We’re waiting on DNA, but dental records confirm that subject 32710 is indeed one Benjamin Draper.’

‘And the cause of death?’ said Fleet.

Randy looked at him archly. He folded his arms.

Fleet sighed. ‘Come on, Randy. You know we can’t go into details. Especially given that we hardly know yet what we’re dealing with ourselves.’

‘I’m not after details, Detective Inspector. Just … titbits. I think you can afford to toss a few of those my way, particularly after I just spent twenty minutes convincing the commissioner that it was too early to draw any firm conclusions – when the truth is, I have my conclusions all ready for you and your lovely assistant.’

‘Twenty minutes?’ said Fleet. ‘Really, Randy? I doubt the commissioner spends that long each day talking to his wife.’

Once again Randy grinned. ‘I’m rounding up.’

Christ, he was a pain in the arse. But even Nicky appeared to be covering a smile. Hard as it was to believe, it appeared she actually liked the man. There was no way, otherwise, she would have allowed the lovely assistant comment to pass.

‘If it makes it any easier on your conscience,’ said Randy, ‘how about I toss out a few theories and you just let me know whether I’m hot or cold? First off,’ he persisted, before Fleet had a chance to respond, ‘Beaconsfield College is one of the top three co-educational boarding schools in the country. Which means everyone who sends their children there is either very rich or very powerful. Moreover,’ he went on, raising a finger, ‘privilege, as we know, perpetuates privilege. Meaning the children who attend Beaconsfield often become rich and powerful themselves. Not always, of course. Some are so messed up by the whole public school/boarding school thing, they end up living in a squat and overdosing on heroin before they reach twenty-five. But let’s assume that, for the most part, the opposite is true.

‘Now,’ he continued, beginning to pace, ‘if Ben Draper was fourteen when he died, and it is now twenty-two years later, that would make his surviving contemporaries thirty-six, give or take a few years to account for the age range of pupils. And if my findings show that Ben Draper was murdered …’ Here Randy paused, smiling at his own non-committal phrasing. ‘If that appears to be the case, then that would mean one or more of his contemporaries is about to be caught up in a full-blown, front-page murder investigation.’