‘No, I’m not the secretary,’ she said, with a measured degree of distaste stopping well short of huffy indignation. ‘I’m an investigator. I’m not the standard ex-cop model but I do this for a living. And I’m better at reading people than you would imagine. You’ve a daughter around my age, haven’t you? Maybe a little younger.’

She spotted a twitch of a reaction, but it was too neutral to infer anything from, especially with his eyes flitting between his rear-view and the road. Nor was his response indicating either way.

‘How do you work that out?’ he asked.

‘Is it true?’

‘Tell me why you think so and I’ll tell you if you’re right.’

Ingrams accelerated the Land Rover steadily but unhurriedly away from the junction, aware of another sharp bend coming up ahead.

‘It would explain why you might more comfortably think of me as a secretary than an investigator. You would find it difficult to accept the idea of someone your daughter’s age doing a job you associate with older people, older males at that; particularly a job you might consider unpalatable for a young woman.’

This sounded reasonable enough, but was only a more polite manifestation of the principle underlining Jasmine’s deduction. The primary rationale behind her assertion, which she was not about to share, was that she had been shoogled around in this contraption for about twenty minutes and hadn’t once caught him sneaking a look at her tits.

Ingrams said nothing, just drove on, hugging the bend, his eyes still flitting back and forth to the rear-view mirror.

‘Well?’ she eventually asked.

‘Hm?’ he responded, as though he’d bloody forgotten. ‘Oh, I see. No. I don’t have a daughter,’ he told her, matter-of-fact to the point of distracted.

Christ, she thought. You go, girl. That showed him.

‘Look, this guy in the Audi, is he with you?’ Ingrams asked, like their previous exchange had never happened. ‘I need you to be honest here. It’s no big deal if he is.’

Jasmine glanced in the wing mirror. The Audi had rounded the bend and was gaining on them at pace. The road ahead was clear and straight, though: no dips, no climbs, no oncoming traffic.

‘No, he absolutely, honestly isn’t. He’s overtaking now anyway. See?’

Ingrams eased off on the accelerator to let the Audi pass while the road ahead was straight and clear. He turned his head slightly as the Land Rover slowed, his eyes directed south of Jasmine’s neck for the first time; or at least the first time she had noticed. With the coast clear and the road straight for a stretch, he was finally taking the chance to grab an eyeful. She twisted to face him, thinking of something acerbic to embarrass him with, which was when she observed that he was actually gazing intently in the passenger-side wing-mirror.