Joyce hesitated, not moving. She looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. ‘Sometimes he just gets …’ And then she stopped.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked again, looking deep into her frightened eyes. ‘If he’s doing this in public, what’s he like at home?’

Her eyes filled with fear. ‘He’s the mayor,’ she whispered helplessly.

‘I don’t care if he’s the prime minister,’ I said in a low voice.

Joyce put a cold hand on my forearm. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for seeing.’ And then she was gone, hurrying after her husband.

I stared after her, my system flushed with adrenaline, and was startled when Russell Mowbray spoke.

‘You don’t see that every day,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’ I turned to face him, struck again by his kind eyes and three-day growth.

‘Your boss yelling at his wife in the supermarket.’

‘Your boss?’ I asked, confused. ‘I thought he was the mayor.’

‘He is,’ said Russell. ‘Before he was elected, he ran Deception Bay Premium Insurances. Still does, actually. That’s where I work.’

He tossed a packet of tea into his basket and I grabbed a packet too. Without planning it, we headed towards the checkout together. In his deep voice, Russell told me that he’d been working for DB Premium for fifteen years. He’d started as a junior and managed the branch now that his boss was busy with his mayoral duties. Tippet’s move to the council chambers had proven quite the boon to the only insurance company in town. Business was booming, with several lucrative town contracts coming their way.

‘Is that legal?’ I asked.

Russell stopped unloading his groceries onto the conveyor belt and looked at me. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ he asked.

Why, indeed? Another thing to look into.

I handed my packet of tea to the checkout girl opposite and fished in my pocket for money. I waited for Russell to finish, wanting to learn more about Richard Tippet. We walked out into the street together and I took a chance.

‘Wanna get a coffee at the bakery?’ I asked. As a cop, you get used to the moment of hesitation. It’s not like an ordinary person asking you for coffee; it’s someone who could potentially arrest you. The quick pondering of an ulterior motive: What does she really want? Is she carrying a gun? The flash of guilt for not quite stopping at the stop sign yesterday; could this cop possibly know that?

‘Um … sure,’ Russell said.

The Deception Bay bakery was my favourite place in town. It doubled as a cafe and the space inside was warmed by a huge open fireplace. Bookshelves lined one wall and were filled with books people left behind to be swapped, borrowed or exchanged on an honour system. I came to the bakery so often I’d become quite friendly with Angie behind the counter.