‘We have spoken with Bishop Robert Meade. He informed us all documentation relating to the nuns and children was destroyed by a fire at the convent in 1962, shortly before it closed.’

‘What . . . everything?’ she asked, looking surprised.

‘So it would seem. As you can imagine, it has made our task of tracing the nuns and children who lived at the convent a difficult one. I would appeal to anyone who lived or worked at the convent to call the incident room at Orpington police station. With your assistance, I am confident we can put a name to our victim and solve this monstrous crime,’ Barnes concluded.

Becky raised her hand. Boon looked at her and shook his head, but she ignored him.

‘Just a couple of questions if I may, sir.’

‘Yes, go ahead, young lady,’ Barnes said.

‘Do you think the nun’s death could be linked to the convent land being developed into flats?’

‘Are you asking if I think the developers were in some way involved?’ he said.

Becky nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘We have considered that possibility,’ he said, ‘but we have excluded it for a couple of reasons. Firstly, we now know all the buildings and land were deconsecrated before purchase. Secondly, it would make no sense to bury a body on land that you are going to dig up.’

There was another ripple of laughter at Becky’s expense.

A couple of journalists raised their hands. Barnes pointed to one of them, but Becky hadn’t finished.

‘DS Tennison mentioned a forensic dentist examined the victim’s teeth. Does that infer she’d had some dental work done?’

Barnes shook his head in disbelief and looked at Jane to answer.

‘That’s correct,’ she said. ‘We’re checking missing persons with dental records on their files against the victim’s teeth. Obviously, we haven’t had a match yet.’

‘If the nun was never reported missing, you won’t get a match, will you?’ Becky said.

‘It would be negligent of us not to check missing persons’ dental records,’ Barnes said tersely. He pointed to another journalist, but Becky still wasn’t done.

‘Did the nuns at the convent drive cars?’

‘I don’t know!’ Barnes said, unable to disguise his exasperation.

‘Nuns don’t generally drive cars,’ a seasoned-looking journalist in a grey pinstripe suit remarked. ‘They take a vow of poverty. You might occasionally see one on a bike though,’ he said wittily.

‘Next question, please?’ Barnes said, pointing to a journalist.

Becky interjected yet again with a confident smile. ‘Have you checked local dentists near to the convent? If nuns don’t drive cars, they’d probably walk to the nearest one if they needed a filling.’

The room fell silent waiting for an answer from a flustered-looking Barnes. It was a simple line of inquiry that had so far been overlooked. Boon nodded at Becky, pleased she had silenced the mockers.

Barnes cleared his throat. ‘Thank you for that astute observation, Miss . . .?