I rewind for a few seconds, then press play. No sound comes out. I press the ‘eject’ button. There’s no tape. I hurl it away. Plop. It’s engulfed by the river.

Another wasted opportunity to secure justice for Clare. And then, against my expectations, a quiet satisfaction creeps over me. Tonight has been a living nightmare. Breitner may be miles away enjoying a glass of vintage Armagnac. But Clare’s assassin is strawberry jam. The Pecks, sister and brother, have stopped Streatham getting away with it. This is justice. Rough. Partial. But justice all the same.

I start to take in my surroundings. This area, the no man’s land between Hammersmith and Shepherd’s Bush, is my least favourite part of London. I’ve never understood the point of it. Pretty much everywhere else has some kind of history and personality, but this borough seems bereft of everything. Not even the sheer ugliness of south London’s brutalism.

I take out my phone as I limp past the rows of anonymous houses and shops. Jess answers before the ringtone can start.

‘Where are you?’

‘Long story.’ Gabbling, I unload everything that’s happened since I left the party. I probably sound hysterical, particularly when I get to the part on the bridge. Jess goes so quiet I can’t tell if she believes me. I’m not sure whether I’d believe me.

‘Streatham is dead.’

‘Jesus,’ she breathes. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine.’ I will be fine.

‘You’re not. I’ll come and get you.’

‘Listen to me.’ I’m almost shouting in my impatience. ‘I told Breitner that I had copies of all the incriminating documents. I didn’t mention you, but it won’t take them long to cotton on. They know we work as a team and someone will have seen us at Frankie’s party.’ Suddenly, I’m terrified for Jess. ‘Don’t go out. Stay where you are and get that story written as quick as you can.’

‘You think the story’s what matters right now?’ She sounds almost as hysterical as I do.

‘It’s the only thing that can save us.’ Most of my thoughts are swirling chaos, but this I can see as clear as day. ‘As long as they think they can suppress what happened, we’re in danger. As soon as the story is out, they’ve nothing to gain by coming after us, and a lot to lose.’

She pauses. She can’t fault the logic. ‘Lorimer will never run this.’

‘You’re right. But I have an idea.’

I explain my plan. She doesn’t like it, and nor do I, much, but we don’t have a choice.

‘Do you need me to come and get you, boss?’

‘I’ll be fine. Write the story, get some sleep, and keep the door locked.’