‘I’ll pass if that’s alright,’ she said. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

Dexter seemed to recognise there was no point in protesting, so he didn’t.

When Caroline got home, Mark was waiting in the kitchen with a bottle of wine, pouring her a large glass as he heard her open the front door.

‘Good day?’ he asked, aware that she’d been called out on a major incident but without any information as to what had happened.

‘Not sure that’s the word I’d use,’ Caroline said, eyeing the wine glass with unease.

‘Big one?’

‘Looks like it. A murder.’

Mark raised an eyebrow. Although he didn’t work for the police, he knew what the expected procedure was, and he also knew how his wife would react to that. ‘I don’t suppose I need to ask if you’re taking it on or handing it over, do I?’

‘Why would I hand it over? I’m the on-call DI, I’m the assigned Senior Investigating Officer, I’ve got a brilliant team of detectives and — above all else — it’s on my patch. What’s the point of Rutland even having a police force if it’s just going to roll over and phone EMSOU whenever there’s anything trickier than a lost cat?’

Mark put his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I knew the answer already. There was never any doubt in my mind. Just like there’s no doubt in my mind that what you need right now is that large glass of red.’

Caroline looked at the wine. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think that’ll help. I need a clear head for work.’

‘One won’t hurt. They won’t call you out again until tomorrow. They can’t. And if they do, everything’s walkable. I was thinking we could sit down and watch a film or something. We kind of lost our Sunday. Not complaining, by the way. Just thought it might be nice to spend the evening together, at least.’

‘I know, but honestly, I’m knackered. I’d love to, but all I want to do is curl up in bed.’

‘It’s still early. You can at least stay up for an hour or so. You need to unwind anyway. It won’t do you any good to go to bed while you’re still stressed.’

She knew he needed the closeness right now — even if she felt dead on her feet. She picked up the glass and sniffed the wine. It smelled like vinegar. In that instant, she regretted letting Mark do the shopping last week.

‘You know, that off-licence on Mill Street’s pretty good. They’ve got some decent wines in there,’ she said, as tactfully as she could.

‘Yeah, I know. That’s where I got this one.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. What’s wrong with it?’