‘You mean, you shagging Chrissie had nothing to do with it?’ Jazz replied sarcastically, as she walked round the desk and slumped in the chair behind it.

‘Well, that, too, of course,’ Patrick nodded. ‘What I’m saying is, Jazz, the other night was wonderful. When it was just you and me.’

Jazz concentrated on removing her laptop from its case. She did not look up at him as she spoke. ‘Patrick, the other night, my father was dying and I was in no fit state to think straight about anything. You and me were a mistake, and it’s my turn to apologise. Thanks anyway, for being there. I do appreciate it. But it’s over. We’re divorced. And that’s an end to it.’ She sighed wearily as she opened the computer. ‘Safe journey back to London.’

‘Jazz, I—’

Her mobile rang. She ignored Patrick and answered it. ‘Hunter here.’

She watched Patrick out of the corner of her eye walk out of the room.

‘Hello, Ma’am, Roland here.’

‘Roland, everything all right?’

‘I thought you might like to know that Frederiks left the school in his car about an hour ago. An officer tailed him to a cottage in Cley. He spent twenty minutes inside, then came out and drove back to the school. He’s just arrived now.’

‘Was he was meeting someone there?’

‘The officer said Frederiks rang the bell and was let in to the cottage, but because the cottage is down the end of a narrow loke, he didn’t get a look at who it was. Anyway, I’ll give you the address.’

‘Good. Thanks for letting me know, Roland. How many media have we got at the school at present?’

‘I’d say ten or so, but you know what they’re like; more are turning up as we speak.’

‘Right. Have you seen Miles?’

‘He’s standing right next to me, Ma’am.’

‘Can you tell him to drive back here to the station? I need to speak to him.’

‘Very good, Ma’am.’

‘Thanks, Roland. I’ll be along to the school later. For now, hold the fort as best you can.’

Putting the mobile down on the desk, Jazz leaned back in the chair and stretched. The day had hardly begun and she felt exhausted. But her relief that Patrick had gone back to London knew no bounds.

She swept her hand through her long hair. There was a call she needed to make now, before she lost her confidence. Her hand hovered over the receiver as she ran through what she would say, then steeled herself to dial Norton’s number.

‘Morning, Sir, Hunter here.’

‘Hunter, congratulations! Coughlin told me about Millar’s arrest.’ Norton sounded jovial. ‘Good news, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Sir.’ Jazz knew she mustn’t sound sour-grape-ish in any way. ‘But at the time of the arrest, he was unable to discuss it with me.’

‘I see. So, Hunter, come to the point, please.’

‘The truth is, Sir, I’m not convinced Millar committed the crime. Until such time as I am, I’d like your permission to follow up other lines of enquiry.’