Stanley nipped into his office and returned with an umbrella, which he handed to DC Boon with a grin.

‘You might need this. Keep me informed.’

Jane picked up the keys for the maroon Hillman Hunter CID car and tossed them over to Boon.

‘You can drive.’

He tossed the keys back. ‘Sorry, sarge, but I’m still suspended from driving ‘job’ motors after the POLAC I had last month.’

Jane frowned, remembering that he’d driven into the back of a privately owned Mercedes at a roundabout. ‘Right. I’ll drive, then.’

‘So where exactly are we going?’ Boon asked as they walked down the stairs.

‘What used to be a convent in Bickley.’ Jane then repeated what Stanley had told her.

Boon sighed. ‘And there was me thinking it might be something exciting for a change. It’s obvious why DI Stanley didn’t fancy dealing with it.’

‘I suspect the miserable weather might have had something to do with his decision to send us instead,’ Jane said.

‘And they say a good copper never gets wet,’ Boon chuckled.

*

As Boon directed Jane to the site of the old convent the rain got heavier. There was a sudden flash of lightning in the distance. Boon looked at his watch and started counting the seconds. He got to five and there was a loud crack of thunder.

‘Why are you counting?’ Jane asked.

‘I’m doing a flash, bang count.’

‘A what?’

‘You take the number of seconds between the lightning and thunder, divide by five and it tells you how far away the lightning is . . . which at present is roughly a mile.’

‘A meteorologist as well as a detective,’ Jane smiled.

‘They say you should take cover if the time between the lightning flash and the rumble of thunder is thirty seconds or less.’

‘Talking of cover, where’s that umbrella Stanley gave you?’

‘Shit, I left it in the locker room toilets when I went to the loo.’

‘Why am I not surprised,’ she sighed.

‘Sorry, sarge, I’ve got a plastic bag in my coat pocket if you want to use it to cover your hair.’

Jane raised her eyebrows and shook her head in disbelief. ‘Thanks but no thanks.’

She’d only known Boony a few weeks, but found him to be polite and cheerful, though somewhat scatty. He had been a detective for two years, was in his early twenties, tall, dark-haired and good-looking. He was always smartly dressed, and Stanley felt he had the makings of a good detective, but needed guidance, which from her first impressions Jane considered to be a fair assessment. He was also a good footballer and played for the Met’s first team, to the annoyance of some of his CID colleagues because his duty shifts were often arranged to enable him to play and train.

‘St Mary’s Lane is next right. It’s a dead-end,’ Boon said, putting the small London A-Z street atlas back in the glove box.

Jane followed his instructions, passing two small cul-de-sacs on either side of the road, each with six large detached houses, some of which were mock Tudor in style.