‘Well, then you’ve woken up the entire square for no reason. Perhaps you’d like to explain yourself.’

He exuded the attitude that only the truly monied managed to develop and a loudness of voice that was designed to indicate superiority. Connie ran a distracted hand through her hair and shoved her hands in her pockets as she stepped closer to the male.

‘Were you at home between nine and nine thirty p.m. on August 20th?’ Connie asked, ignoring the request for an explanation as if she simply hadn’t heard.

‘I suppose I must have been. I rarely go out in the evenings, but I don’t see the relevance of the question.’

‘Did you hear any screams that evening? Anything that made you look out of the window or feel concerned. Perhaps your neighbours mentioned a disturbance to you the next day.’

‘No, nothing like that. It’s a quiet square most of the time, but certainly when most of the traffic has left the city at the end of the day.’ He pulled his dressing gown cord sharply and smoothed his hair. ‘I should go in.’ He looked up at the neighbouring windows, many of whose frames were now filled by curious faces.

‘Of course,’ Connie said. ‘Appreciate the help.’

Baarda stared at her as the man walked, head held high, back into his home. Connie smiled as he disappeared. She couldn’t get her head round dressing gowns.

‘Do you have one of those?’ she asked Baarda, a slight lift at one corner of her mouth.

‘I, er, suppose I do. Could I just ask …’

‘You can,’ she said. ‘But please feel free to stop asking if you can ask something before you actually ask it. Kind of a waste of time. It’s not as if I’m ever going to say no.’

Baarda’s phone rang.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘No need to send units. We’re in that exact location. No incident here. Righty-ho.’

‘Righty-ho?’ Connie laughed. ‘Holy crap, it’s like I joined the cast of Downton Abbey. Where did you go to school, Eton?’

Baarda’s darkening cheeks were visible even in the poorly lit square.

‘You did! Wow, I thought Eton was reserved for royalty.’

‘Popular myth,’ Baarda murmured. ‘You do know we’re still being watched. We should probably relocate somewhere more discreet.’

‘Probably,’ Connie said in her best British accent, standing her ground and staring back at the onlookers. ‘Elspeth wasn’t disappeared from here, though. She went willingly. This is a high-end residential area with people who respond to noise, so it’s unusual. Scream in New York and people just turn up their TVs. Here, the residents actively object. There were what, twenty, maybe even thirty eyes on us? At nine thirty in the evening, someone would have taken a look, and Elspeth would have screamed a lot louder and longer than me if she were being abducted.’