Aylesbury sucked on the inside of his cheek, still watching Jessica. ‘This all comes, of course, after what was an extended break . . .’

Jolts of ice prickled along the back of Jessica’s neck. He couldn’t use that against her: no one could. Cole knew as well as anyone what she’d been through. She angled slightly in her chair to look at the DCI behind his desk but he was deliberately avoiding her gaze.

She kept her eyes on Cole, even though it was Aylesbury she was talking to. ‘As far as I’m aware, everything was cleared at the time with HR and anyone else it needed to be signed off by.’

Aylesbury adjusted his position until he was perched forward, diligently trying to catch her eye. ‘Quite, quite – and you’ve been largely hitting your targets since returning, of course . . . so, with all of that in mind, can I ask where you’ve just been?’

Jessica could feel Aylesbury staring at her but didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Finally, the buttering up and vague hints were over and they were getting to the point.

‘I’ve had a busy weekend,’ Jessica replied. ‘I was moved to lates at short notice but then I had to come in yesterday to deal with Timothy Stoddard. I need a new pair of shoes, so I figured no one would mind if I nicked over to the Arndale for half an hour. My timesheets have been ridiculous this month anyway.’

Silence.

DCI Cole stared at his desk. DSI Aylesbury stared at Jessica. Jessica stared at the certificates on the wall behind the pair of them.

‘You went shopping?’

‘Not technically, Sir, I didn’t buy anything.’

‘But you’re saying you were in the city centre?’

‘I was in a few places – just a quick in-out. I didn’t think anyone would mind; it’s quiet around here.’

‘Right . . .’

Aylesbury sounded as if he was about to launch into some sort of life lesson, so Jessica cut him off. ‘Can I ask why you’re interested, Sir?’

The question took him by surprise. ‘Sorry?’

‘It’s just we’ve not seen you in months. Obviously that’s none of my business – it’s just curious that you’re suddenly interested in what I’m up to. If you like, I can email you minute-by-minute updates of my whereabouts but I doubt there’ll be a lot in there to interest you. If I’m not here, I’m usually at home. Sometimes I stop off at the supermarket on the way back. If you catch it at just the right time, there’s a sweet spot for when they reduce the price of all the bakery items. It’s an art form trying to get there at the right time.’

The DSI’s eyes were narrow, piercing through Jessica. This was definitely not Grandpa Aylesbury; this was someone firmly on the greasy pole of corporate promotions. ‘Perhaps your time would have been better spent trying to find the evidence needed to secure a conviction against the person who killed Damon Potter, instead of harassing innocent people?’

‘If you ask DCI Cole, I’m sure he’ll be able to tell you that I’ve been shuffled sideways in that case. Witnesses were brought in at times I wasn’t here, Holden Wyatt was charged by someone else. I’m not omnipresent, Sir – and the whole point of what we do is that we don’t know who’s innocent or guilty until we’ve actually done the whole investigating thing.’

A pause for another sip of tea and then the rearrangement of the handle so it lined up with the desk.

‘Are you saying you don’t believe Holden Wyatt is guilty?’ Aylesbury asked.

‘I don’t know, Sir, like I say – shuffled sideways.’

Aylesbury turned to face Cole and Jessica knew that this exact conversation had already been predicted.

‘Wyatt has already admitted multiple assaults, including upon Damon Potter. We are going to look increasingly ridiculous if he is tried for an assault on someone, while we still don’t have anyone for the actual death. The victim didn’t put himself in that bin.’

‘That’s what I’ve been saying the entire time – but I fail to see how a group of students first saying they saw Holden at a party and then saying they didn’t proves that he was the one responsible for dumping the body. We’re not even certain whether Damon choked on his own vomit after drinking voluntarily, or if he was forced.’

‘In that case, it’s your job to get on with proving something and to stop messing around with other things – and that message comes down from on high. Do you understand?’

Jessica understood far better than he knew: Pomeroy.

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good – then I’m sure there’s something you can find to be doing.’

Jessica stood and headed towards the door, turning at the last moment. ‘Oh, by the way, it’s a rip-off.’

Aylesbury and Cole exchanged a confused look. ‘What is?’ Aylesbury asked.

Jessica pulled the door until it was almost closed. ‘The price of Velcro.’

Slam.

37

Jessica hurried down the stairs, ignored Fat Pat bleating about something or other, and went to find DC Rowlands. He was at his desk but barely visible behind a stack of ring binders, cardboard folders and printouts.

He acknowledged her with a nod but was clearly occupied.

‘Got a minute?’ Jessica asked.

‘No – and I mean it this time.’

Jessica perched on the edge of his desk anyway but he continued working. She lowered her voice. ‘We’re definitely onto something – I’ve just been bollocked by Lord Aylesbury himself.’

Dave nodded but seemed nervous.

‘What’s up?’ Jessica added.

‘Nothing – be quick; I’m busy.’

‘It sounds like Pomeroy’s throwing his weight around – and given the size of him, that can never be a good thing. You’re going to have to keep your head down—’

‘What do you think I’m doing?’

Jessica glanced up from the desk, looking around the rest of the main floor. As she did, she felt a dozen pairs of eyes shoot down towards their desks, pretending they hadn’t been watching. The only person who was still looking in her direction was DI Franks, who had moved to Longsight recently. They had equal rank but Jessica had ended up with her own office largely by accident, while he had to share. They rarely worked together and, if anything, were in a constant silent competition over who had the most outstanding cases. Jessica wasn’t overly competitive – but it was always better to be ahead of the other inspectors.

Franks was a greasy corporate type: all neat side-partings and crisp suits. He’d have been in his element at the press conference that morning and was exactly the kind of person who’d go far. If he ever left the station, then Jessica didn’t know about it. He got on with his job, brown-nosed the right people and had the initiative of a plank of wood.

And he was smirking at her, half-pretending to be reading a document.

Dave was still tapping away on his keyboard and Jessica lowered her voice even further: ‘What’s going on?’

‘I’ve been moved over to work for Franks. There was that raid on the post office van last week and—’

‘Franks the Fanny?’

‘Yes.’

‘Funtime Frankie?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wanky Frankie?’

‘Jess . . .’

‘You’ve got to work for him to stop you working with me?’

‘I didn’t ask – I was told this was what I was doing, so I got on with it.’

Jessica stood. ‘I think I’m going to—’

‘Don’t.’ Dave’s eyes were wide, pleading with her. ‘Leave it,’ he hissed. ‘It’s not going to do any good if you get into some stand-up row with Franks in front of everyone. Why do you think everyone’s watching you? That’s what they’re expecting. It’s not as if this was his idea anyway; this has come from higher up.’

Jessica tapped him on the shoulder, acknowledging he was right – but she also had no doubt that her hastiness in taking him with her to visit Freddy Bunce had brought this on. Bunce had complained to someone, which had led to DSI Aylesbury turning up and laying down the law. There wasn’t an awful lot they could do to her while she was still the golden girl from arresting Timothy Stoddard – so Dave was collateral damage.