Jane could tell by his tone he was a chauvinist. ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything. If Dr Pullen was trained by the renowned Professor Martin, I’ve no doubt she will be as good at the job as her male counterparts,’ she said.

‘That remains to be seen, love,’ he smirked.

Jane had had enough of Rogers’ attitude. ‘I’m not your “love”, PC Rogers, I’m a sergeant and that makes me your superior officer . . . and as such I prefer to be addressed as sergeant.’

‘Yes, sarge,’ Rogers said, with a mock salute and look of disdain, before going back to his typing.

At that moment a woman appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily and wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with a tissue. ‘Sorry I’m late, PC Rogers. I’ve just run all the way up the hill from Sidcup railway station.’ She paused for breath. ‘Bloody hell, I’m knackered . . . and there was me thinking I was reasonably fit.’ She turned to Jane. ‘I’m Dr Samantha Pullen, but everyone calls me Sam or Sammy.’ Pullen was in her late thirties, about five foot seven, thickset, with dark collar-length bob and a straight fringe. She had green eyes, a round face and wore red lipstick, which accentuated her rosy cheeks and broad smile.

Jane thought Pullen looked rather trendy in her burgundy raincoat and matching Baker Boy hat.

‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison from Bromley CID. Congratulations on your forthcoming appointment as a Home Office forensic pathologist.’

‘Thank you, Jane. I’ve a couple of weeks to go yet . . . hopefully I won’t screw up before then,’ she added with a big smile.

Rogers stood up, took two stained mortuary gowns from the coat stand and handed one to Jane. ‘Right, let’s get this coffin open.’

‘I’m fine without the gown, thank you,’ Jane replied, putting the gown back and wiping her hand on the side of her skirt.

He shrugged. ‘Please yourself.’

‘I’ll just nip to the mortuary technician’s locker room to get changed, then we’re good to go,’ Pullen said.

Jane followed Rogers to the examination room where Boon was leaning on a work surface, reading a newspaper while eating a Mars Bar.

‘Food is not supposed to be eaten in here, DC Boon,’ Rogers barked, scowling at the resident mortuary technician, Jack, for allowing it to happen.

Jane thought this rather rich coming from someone who was wearing a dirty blood-stained gown that he kept in his office.

The coffin was on an adjustable examination table and Jane went and stood beside Boon. I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Boony.’

He looked alarmed. ‘What have I done now?’

‘It’s what you didn’t do.’ She touched her face where the mud had been.

‘Sorry, I thought you were going straight back to the station.’

‘You’re lucky I saw the funny side of it,’ she said, half-smiling. ‘But remember, revenge is a dish best served cold.’