Gary clicks his tongue. ‘Nah, not that. The opposite of that. I think she was genuinely desperate to get her husband back – she wasn’t the social type, didn’t have friends, didn’t have a job, didn’t have anything apart from him and the kid; without him, her life was bollixed. And she knew the best way to make fellas go out of their way for her was by being pretty and making them want to take care of her.’

‘Cute,’ I say. I can hear the coffee machine whirring – instead of bitching nonstop about the crap coffee, the way we do in Murder, Missing Persons threw in a few quid each and bought a decent machine. ‘And it worked.’

‘Yeah. That type doesn’t do a lot for me, but a couple of the lads would’ve brought out the army to comb the country for her husband, if they could’ve. Tracking down a few mobiles, interviewing a few extra witnesses . . . that was nothing.’

He remembers a lot about this woman, for someone who wasn’t into her. I keep my mouth shut – Gary brings out my nice side. ‘So it wasn’t because anyone suspected Murray might’ve been involved with gangs?’

Gary laughs. ‘Jesus, no. Nothing like that. Pure as the driven snow, Murray was. When it came to the law, at least.’

I throw Steve a look. He grimaces: still unconvinced. He’s got his hands tucked into his armpits to keep them warm.

I roll my eyes and say, into the phone, ‘You sure you would’ve heard?’

‘Thanks a bunch, Antoinette.’

‘Come on, Gar, you know I’m not being a bitch here. But you had to be, what, twenty-six, twenty-seven? Out of uniform for like three weeks? The lead Ds weren’t necessarily telling you everything that went through their heads.’

The faint clinking of Gary stirring his coffee. He says, ‘Is that what it was like when you were here? You figure I held stuff back from you, just to keep the rookie in her place?’

I say, ‘No. You would’ve told me.’