‘Your gut, Rachel? Since when did we run a police investigation based on our feelings? I know we’re all meant to be woke these days, but I’d like to think our investigations are still based on good old-fashioned police work. Or have I missed the memo that says we need to start feeling instead of thinking?’

‘It’s more than a feeling,’ Rachel said. ‘I spoke to Robbie Fuson this morning. He’s hiding something. So is Adam Murray.’

‘Hiding what?’

‘The real reason Robbie walked away from the foundation,’ Rachel said. ‘Something happened but, for some reason, both Adam and Robbie are trying to keep it hidden. I think Ivan Babić might be connected to it all and that’s why he’s disappeared.’

‘Well, you’d better make it your business to find out,’ Sharon said. ‘The clock’s ticking on this one.’

Not for the first time, Rachel wished Ed was here. He had a way of handling Sharon that she had no hope of mastering. In the past, Ed had led these meetings with their boss. Rachel had only chipped in when necessary, happy to let Ed do most of the talking. Ed, who would have told her she was right to trust her instinct but would never have been stupid enough to use the word ‘gut’ in Sharon’s presence.

‘We need to look at Clodagh Kinsella again,’ Sharon said. ‘She discovered both bodies and, right before they were killed, both victims contacted her to say they needed to speak to her. You already told me you think she’s hiding something, Rachel. I want you to find out what that is. Go back and check the timings again for when she arrived at London Bridge the day Tara was killed. If we can get Clodagh near Tara’s apartment at the time of death, then we’ve got the start of a good case.’

Rachel didn’t chip in to say that her gut was also telling her – loudly and repeatedly – that Clodagh wasn’t their killer. She knew Ade had her doubts too, but she was glad, for Ade’s sake, that she had also chosen not to share these doubts with the boss.

‘The problem is,’ Sharon said, ‘I can’t see her being physically capable of overpowering Nick Gilbert and moving his body after he’d been killed. Clodagh’s… what? Five three at the most? And skinny as a rake to boot. What is it with these men who like their trophy wives without any flesh on their bones? No. Don’t answer that. I already know the answer. They’re scared of a real woman, that’s what it is. Scared of breasts and flesh and all the things that make women so bloody brilliant.’ Sharon crossed her arms over her own substantial breasts. ‘Anyway, my point is this. If Clodagh killed Nick, she didn’t do it by herself.’