‘We-ell, and this really is off the record, I might add.’ Jazz smiled wryly. ‘I can score anything you fancy by making one call: uppers, downers, blues, hash, Es, coke, heroin . . .’

‘When do we leave?’

‘Very funny.’

‘I’m joking. Not into that stuff, never have been.’

‘You would say that to a detective now, wouldn’t you?’ Jazz countered.

‘No. I believe in telling the truth. And luckily for me, I’ve managed to avoid it. Honestly,’ he reiterated.

‘I didn’t. For a while anyway. I tried everything. It was . . . de rigueur at my educational establishment. Bit like milk at break.’

‘A rite of passage?’

‘Yup. Something like that. Middle-class white girl . . .’ Jazz sighed. ‘I wanted to be accepted. And being on the “other side” has given me great insight. I understand what these kids have to go through just to grow up relatively unscathed.’

‘So, what happened to your dad?’

‘As usual, he got too emotionally involved. With his congregation, which grew from a few old biddies into three hundred whilst he was there. My dad’s a very charismatic figure. And with one woman in particular, whose child was dying of leukaemia. She came to him for spiritual support, spent a lot of time at our house. Her old man, who was a renowned drug dealer, didn’t like it, arrived one day at our house and shot him at point-blank range in our kitchen.’

‘Shit,’ Jonathan murmured.

‘He was lucky to survive at all,’ added Jazz. ‘He had a heart attack on the operating table. He’s very fragile, and becoming more so by the day.’

‘But a fixture here in Cambridge, nevertheless. He’s renowned in the university, for his wisdom, his kindness, and his filthy jokes.’ Jonathan smiled, his eyes twinkling.

‘He’s a very special man,’ murmured Jazz, ‘and I love him to bits, for all his faults.’

‘Trying to spread goodness isn’t a fault, Jazz.’

‘No, I know that. But living with a saint can be tough. My mother, especially, has been through a lot.’

‘I’m sure. And you too, Jazz,’ he said softly, his blue eyes fixed on hers.

‘Anyway, enough of all that.’ She felt herself blushing. ‘Anything else you want to know? I need to be leaving.’ The words came out more brusquely than she’d intended, but she felt uncomfortable.

‘No, I don’t think so. For now, anyway. I need to go home and write up my notes. If I need another meeting, would you be amenable?’

‘I’m very busy at the moment.’ She stood up.

Jonathan did likewise. ‘On a case?’

‘Yes.’

‘Interesting?’

‘Yes.’ She was heading towards the door. ‘Goodbye, Jonathan, hope I’ve been of some use.’ She extended her hand towards him. He ignored it.

‘Are you parked in Trinity?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll walk with you. The house I share is in that direction.’ Jonathan led the way out of the pub and onto the street.

Jazz walked silently, feeling unsettled and wondering how he’d managed to make her reveal far more than she’d intended.