A world-famous household name pop star, however, could easily have crossed someone at some point in her career – and they still didn’t know what had caused Meredith’s sudden withdrawal from the public eye. She’d been wondering if it was something to do with the hole in her hand that Meredith wouldn’t discuss. Gemma made a mental note to look into this further. And Meredith herself seemed worried, albeit more about Paula Allerton than herself. She’d rung Gemma a couple of days before to report that a statue outside the Allertons’ house had been vandalised, and that Paula had told her she thought someone had been creeping around there the night before.

An hour later the conference room was packed – Gemma had sent out a blanket email. Emad sidled in at the last moment with another newish PC – Damian someone – and took a seat at the back. When she flashed him a brief grin, she noticed the sheepish, pleased expression that crossed his face. He was such a sweetheart.

Mavis and DI Lincoln stood at the front, next to a board on which were pinned photographs of Andrea Horvath and Ralph Allerton, pre- and post-mortem.

‘Right. Morning everyone,’ Detective Superintendent Lincoln began. He was a tall, handsome, chisel-jawed man with wavy blond hair and just the right amount of darker stubble, but he had an unfortunate voice and a weird way of coughing, where he flung back his head and coughed into the back of his hand with short staccato barks. This looked very melodramatic, like a speeded-up swooning Victorian heroine. He did it so often it had to be a sort of tic, and this, plus the nasal voice, instantly cancelled out much of the sex appeal of his appearance. Gemma could tell, though, that Mavis still felt threatened in his proximity.