Jasmine winced, hoping Ingrams had missed the significance of her last stumble, then hoped he hadn’t noticed her resultant expression. She had felt it inexplicably important not to reveal that Jim was her uncle, as opposed to merely her employer. It may have been a natural caution against giving anything of herself away before she had succeeded in learning something about Ingrams; but just as likely she feared it would further underline that it was only because of nepotism that she was doing this job. However, it belatedly struck her that there was no reason to be quite so coy, and by trying to avoid mentioning Jim’s name altogether, she may have tipped her hand.

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Ingrams replied. ‘And on the subject of your guess, if this folder was so uncommonly light on information, what drives you to the conclusion that it’s that particular case that is connected to your boss’s disappearance?’

Jasmine feared for a horrible moment that she was going to fill up. It felt like Ingrams was not in fact obstructing her progress so much as merely pointing out the brick wall she was up against.

‘Nothing in particular,’ she admitted. ‘I’m just looking for clues, exploring the possibilities. I’m worried …’

She was going to add ‘for him’, but pulled up short, once again concerned at divulging the nature of their relationship. Conveniently, she had an alternative motive she could plausibly offer.

‘My salary is due at the end of this week. If I don’t find him, I don’t get any wages.’

She sounded desperate and pathetic, she knew.

‘Jesus,’ Ingrams said. ‘Talk about performance-related pay. At least that explains why someone like you is doing this.’

‘What do you mean, someone like me? A woman?’

‘I mean someone your age. No offence, but you’re not exactly what they call “hard-boiled”. What do you normally do for your boss: are you the secretary?’

They slowed to a near-stop at another junction as he spoke, Ingrams turning his head to scan left and right, his eyes looking past her and out of the side window as he checked for oncoming traffic. From his expression she could tell he wasn’t being cheeky or patronising. He was asking honest questions, a hint of sincerity and even concern visible in his face. In a way, that made it worse.

She felt her cheeks burn again, that sting of shame at being found out mixed with a knot of anger. In her cringing self-consciousness she went to fold her arms yet again and once more stopped herself, as she knew it would look all the more girlie and pathetic.

She dearly wanted something to throw back and suddenly realised that she had it.