‘You really haven’t hung around, have you?’ Jazz stood up again. ‘Letting everyone know of your trophy murderer? DCI Coughlin, sweeping in, clearing up his incompetent ex-wife’s case in a matter of hours . . .’

‘Ah, Jazz, let’s face it’ – Patrick leaned back in his chair, arms crossed – ‘you’ve always had a problem with me in the workplace. And now, of course, I’m after being promoted . . .’

‘Excuse me!’ Jazz leaned over the desk, arms akimbo. ‘I have never had a problem! Ever! It’s you that had the problem! Even Norton recognised it!’

‘Did he indeed? Well now, he’s never mentioned it to me, and, fair play, Jazz, if I do have a problem, it’s got far more to do with Norton so obviously thinking the sun shines out of your backside, favouring you . . .’ Patrick stood up and they eyed each other angrily across the desk.

‘How dare you say that! He’s not favoured me in any way whatsoever. I’ve got there by sheer hard work and—’

‘That’s not what everyone else in the department reckons.’ Patrick smirked.

‘You bastard!’ Unable to stop herself, Jazz reached out and slapped Patrick across his cheek.

Joint shock stunned them both into silence.

‘Shit! I’m sorry,’ Jazz said eventually, as Patrick reached to touch his stinging cheek. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

Patrick shrugged. ‘You always did have a rare temper. And I understand you’re upset, what with your father, and all.’

‘No, Patrick! This has nothing to do with me being “upset”! The bottom line here is that I’m in charge of this operation, and if anyone was going to make an arrest, it should have been me. The fact that you haven’t given me the chance to interview Millar yet so I can ascertain the facts for myself . . .’

‘Feel free.’ Patrick shrugged, reaching down and shutting his laptop. ‘He’s all yours. Norton has asked me to drive straight back to London. Something’s come up. I’m out of your hair as of now.’

He picked up his briefcase and searched in his pocket for his car keys. She watched him silently, seething with anger, as he walked towards the door. Hesitating, he stopped and turned round.

‘Now so, Jazz, there was sufficient evidence to arrest Millar. And time is of the essence. The media have got ahold of something that’s amiss at the school. They’ll be gathering like a pack of vultures by now, so they will.’

‘I’m sure,’ she nodded, realising it was pointless to continue the argument.

He handed her a file. ‘The PM is in there, as well as the forensic report. Down to you to extract a confession for Forbes’s death, though I’m reckoning Millar’d go down, even if he doesn’t confess. He said he spent the night of Forbes’s murder on a park bench somewhere in Norwich.’

‘Thanks.’ She took the file from him.

Patrick reached out to open the door then stopped. ‘Look, Jazz, surely what’s just happened illustrates why our marriage didn’t work?’