Styles rolled his eyes. ‘Oh yeah, cos of course I’m “that guy” who lets his partner fall on his sword. Do me a favour.’ He stood up and pulled his jacket on. ‘Come on, then, if we’re going to tilt at windmills we might as well do it before rush hour kicks in.’

Porter flirted with the idea of trying to talk him out of it. If it did blow up in their faces, he saw no sense in them both suffering, but he knew Styles was stubborn when it came to backing him up. Porter wouldn’t have borne a grudge if his partner had taken the out offered to him, but deep down he’d known it would be refused point-blank; that’s exactly what he would have done.

He patted his pockets, listening for the jangle of keys, but spotted them peeking out from underneath a folder on his desk. He had no idea what truths lurked behind Mary Locke’s lies, but thirty years’ hibernation was enough; it would end today.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mary Locke’s anger was a tangible thing that crackled through the airwaves and shot out from the intercom speaker. The quiet, submissive tone of previous visits had been replaced with an abrupt, clipped reply that brooked no argument.

‘Sorry, Detectives, but I’m under strict instructions not to admit you, and to contact my husband immediately. I believe he’s spoken to your superiors.’ Her words were coated with a smug glow of immunity.

‘I believe he has, Mrs Locke, and you’re well within your rights to do that. Before you do though, I’d take a moment, and consider how your husband, and my superiors’ – he placed heavy stress on superiors, merely the proverbial messenger begging not to be shot – ‘would take to finding out that you lied about your trips to see Natasha.’

A tremor of anger rippled through her reply, but it rang false in his ear. ‘How dare you call me a liar? Just you wait until my husband—’

‘Mrs Locke, excuse my being blunt, but you provided false information to officers investigating an alleged murder. We can prove that you didn’t take trips to Poland to see your stepdaughter when you claim to have. As to why you felt the need to give us that information, I can’t say, but I’d much rather discuss it face-to-face, unless you’re happy for your neighbours to listen in as we chat through your intercom.’