Jazz smoothed a stray tendril of her thick auburn hair back into place. For the past seven months she’d left it to grow longer and hang in a curly mass round her shoulders. The old plastic clip she used now to twist it up was struggling to cope with its heaviness and felt uncomfortable digging into her scalp.

‘Oh bugger it!’ she muttered, as she removed the clip and let her hair fall back around her face. She smoothed down her suit, still crumpled from being stuffed in a box for seven months, and wished she’d had time to take it to the dry cleaner’s. Just as she was collecting her car keys, a silver BMW pulled up outside.

‘Thank God for that.’ Jazz grabbed her briefcase and, slamming her front door behind her, she ran down the path to the waiting car.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she asked DS Alistair Miles curtly as she climbed into the passenger seat.

‘Isn’t that what I should be saying to you?’ Alistair smiled. ‘I’ve only taken an hour’s detour through the picturesque villages of Norfolk; you buggered off for over seven months. Good to see you, Ma’am.’ He smiled again as he pulled out onto the road. ‘Are we heading in the right direction?’

‘Just keep going and I’ll tell you when to turn.’

‘How are you?’ Miles glanced at his boss admiringly, struck afresh by her unusual beauty. There was something softer about her, the alabaster skin a few tones darker, setting off her green eyes, her long hair softening the high cheekbones and curvature of her face. ‘You look fantastic.’

‘Thanks,’ said Jazz shortly.

‘Not the same without you back at the ranch, though. Everyone sends their best. They were all green with envy that I was going on a country sojourn with you in charge. They want the low-down.’

‘I’m sure they do.’ She nodded. ‘I took a leave of absence to sort my life out and here I am. And that’s your lot, DS Miles, capisce?’

‘Aye aye, Capitano, I do. So, how much do you know about the case?’

‘It seems young Cavendish managed to swallow two aspirin tablets, even though he knew he was allergic to them. I interviewed his mother yesterday and she said as much.’

‘Was he pissed?’

‘The pathologist’s report says not.’

‘Drugs?’

‘No.’

‘Probably took them by mistake, then?’

‘That, DS Miles, is why you are driving me through the wilds of Norfolk: to find out.’

‘Gather it’s a favour to the mate of the commissioner. Some schoolboy overdose wouldn’t normally be our bag. Not that I care. Felt like I was on holiday driving up here this morning.’

‘I’ll ignore that last remark, DS Miles. However big or small the case, we’re trained to give it our all.’

‘Absolutely.’ He grinned. ‘So, how’s life in the slow lane? All very Miss Marple round here.’ Alistair indicated an idyllic row of cottages as they drove towards Foltesham.

‘It’s good, thank you.’