When Carla collected him from the front desk, William Eyre was exactly as she had imagined. Dressed in tweed, with a wooden walking stick, his face ruddy from spirits, and his stomach round from good food. What she didn’t expect was how easily he slipped back into detective chief inspector mode.

‘So,’ he said as they walked towards the office, ‘have you got a lead?’

‘A lead?’

‘On Mary Balcombe. I was always convinced she was up to her eyes in it, so I assume the case has been reopened?’

‘Not exactly, no.’

Eyre stopped walking. ‘Then why am I here?’

Carla waited for a uniform to pass before replying. ‘We think it may be connected to another case, a more recent one.’

‘Ah …’ He continued walking, nodding, as if proved right about something. ‘So she’s struck again, has she? They always do – once a killer, always a killer. Although I expect you know that.’

Carla didn’t reply, just held the door open for him, for which he thanked her.

‘Of course it’s not me you should really be speaking to, it’s that young lad who made it his mission to “save” her.’ He shook his head. ‘Most unbecoming.’

‘Young lad?’

They’d reached the office, but as she held another door open, they both stopped. Eyre tapped the side of his head.

‘Memory isn’t what it was, but I’ll dig around for the name.’

‘Thanks, that would be really helpful.’

‘You’re very welcome, my dear.’

Bremer had a cup of tea waiting and Eyre seemed slightly put out. Not used to being a witness, she thought, taking the seat next to him. Bremer smiled his smile. Eyre looked unimpressed.

‘Thank you for coming at such short notice, sir.’

Carla noted the reference to his past rank; a clever move, she decided, when Eyre reacted with a nod.

‘I’d like to speak with you about Mary Balcombe. We’d like to know a bit more about who she was, where she went.’

Eyre let out a short laugh, but unlike the one Carla had heard earlier, this was pointed. ‘I think if either of us knew where she went, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.’

‘You said in the corridor you assumed we’d reopened the Waites case because we’d found evidence on Mary. Why do you think she was involved in Aoife’s murder?’ Carla asked.

Eyre sat back in his chair and placed his hands over his stomach.

‘It just never really sat well with me – you know the sort of case.’ He looked to Bremer, who nodded. ‘The kind you know is cut and dried on paper, but something just doesn’t feel right.’

‘Did you look into Mary?’ Bremer asked. ‘When you had this instinct there was more to it?’