‘Hang on second, please . . . I’ll see if Mr Durham is available,’ said a female voice.

Jane was surprised and a bit annoyed not to be simply buzzed in. It was nearly a minute before she got a reply.

‘Sorry for the delay, Ms Tennison. Please come in. Our offices are on the first floor.’

Entering the office Jane couldn’t help but notice how modern and bright it was, compared to the drab, green-painted walls and worn brown carpet of the CID office. On one wall were numerous pictures of houses and flats, which presumably had been designed and built by the Durhams. On the opposite wall were two large-scale drawings of different modern-style houses, next to which was a separate glassed-in office, with a kidney-shaped glass desk and two small sofas. Jane could see the back of a tall man with collar-length blond hair. He was smartly dressed in a light blue suit and holding a phone to his ear whilst looking at a large building plan on the wall.

An attractive blonde-haired woman in her mid-twenties looked up from her typing as Jane walked in.

‘Welcome to Thomas Durham and Son, Ms Tennison. I’m Judy, the office secretary. Mr Durham is on the phone. He’ll be with you as soon as he’s finished. Would you like a coffee or cup of tea?’

‘A black coffee, no sugar, would be lovely thanks,’ Jane replied, hoping it would perk her up after her lack of sleep.

‘Please take a seat.’ Judy pointed to a two-seater sofa. There was a small coffee table next to it with a pile of glossy house brochures.

Judy returned with Jane’s coffee in a bone china cup. ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Mr Durham is on a very important business call.’

Jane wondered if it was about the coffin and the shutting down of his building site. She picked up a brochure for a five-bedroom house and flicked through it. Looking at the interior photographs, she was amazed how contemporary and bright the rooms were, especially the fitted kitchen with its modern appliances. It made her realise how old and rundown her house was. It struck her that Nick Durham might be able to recommend a good electrician to look at her fuse box and wiring. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a man’s voice call out.

‘Detective Tennison. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Please come through to my office.’

Jane looked up and instantly thought the man, in his mid-thirties, looked familiar. He was good-looking, with an engaging smile and slim physique. She picked up her coffee and followed him to his office, where he pointed to one of the sofas.

‘I’m Nick Durham. Please take a seat.’ He went and sat on the other sofa.

Even his voice sounded slightly familiar to Jane. ‘Excuse me for asking, but have we met before?’ she asked.