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the door-to-door, and pulling the bank and phone records of the victim?’ asked Erika.
    DC Singh stood up. ‘Lots of people on Laurel Road are away on holiday, and plenty more were out on the night of the murder. With this weather, people have been going to parks and pubs after work, staying out late. Also, Gregory Munro’s neighbours on either side are on holiday until the weekend.’
    ‘So you’re saying no one saw anything?’ snapped Erika, impatiently.
    ‘Erm, no…’
    ‘Bloody hell. What else?’
    ‘Gregory Munro had an annual salary of £200,000. This is partly due to him running one of the largest and most profitable GP surgeries in the south of England. No debt, apart from an eighty grand mortgage on the main residence in Laurel Road. He also owns a house in New Cross Gate, which he rents out to students, and the house in Shirley, where Penny Munro now lives. Phone records are fairly straightforward, nothing unusual. He did phone his wife three days before he was due to go away, as she stated. And all his records check out. He was flying to Nice to attend a conference with the BMA.’
    ‘Was he a member of any gay sites or apps?’
    ‘He did download the Grindr app a month ago. It was found on his phone, but he didn’t complete the profile.’
    ‘What about a solicitor? Who’s dealing with the divorce?’
    ‘I’ve left him several messages today. But he hasn’t got back yet.’
    ‘Okay, keep on him.’
    ‘Yes, boss,’ said Singh, sitting back down, looking despondent.
    The officers watched Erika as she paced up and down in front of the whiteboards.
    ‘It’s Gary Wilmslow, boss. I think we should bite the bullet. Bring the scumbag in,’ said Peterson.
    ‘No. It’s not enough right now that’s he’s a scumbag.’
    ‘Boss!’
    ‘No, Peterson. If and when we bring him in, I want to be sure and I want evidence to back it up, okay?’
    Peterson sat back, shaking his head.
    ‘You can shake your head all you want. Don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgement. When the time is right, if it’s right, then we’ll get him. Okay?’
    Peterson nodded.
    ‘Good. Now, has anyone else got anything for me?’
    There was silence. Erika checked her watch.
    ‘Okay… Let’s refocus this on Gary Wilmslow, with an open mind. Someone check out his employer, and do some digging. Work your contacts.’
    The incident room burst into chatter and Marsh came over. ‘Erika, have you got time for a chat when you’re done?’
    ‘Yeah, I think we’ll be a few more hours, sir.’
    ‘No worries, give me a shout when you’re done and we can grab a coffee,’ said Marsh, moving off to the door.
    ‘You want to buy me two coffees in one day?’ muttered Erika suspiciously to herself. ‘What’s that all about?’.

13
    T o Erika’s surprise , Marsh took her to a frozen yoghurt bar down the road from Lewisham Row station. It had just opened a few days before and it was busy.
    ‘I promised Marcie I would try this place out,’ said Marsh, as they joined the queue in the garish neon pink-and-yellow interior.
    ‘Is this to cheer me up? Or are you demonstrating that police budgets aren’t all about austerity?’ asked Erika.
    ‘My office is at the top of the building. I needed to cool off,’ he said. They reached a young girl in front of a humming yoghurt dispenser and Marsh ordered them each a large. They were handed a paper cup of yoghurt each and moved along to a self-service bar with an array of small dishes containing sweets, fruit and chocolate. Erika watched Marsh as he seriously contemplated the selection and then opted for Gummi Bears. She suppressed a grin, and chose fresh fruit.
    ‘So, how are you settling in to your new flat?’ asked Marsh once they had found a spot amongst the busy chatter, perched on high stools by a large picture window. Traffic crawled past as the heat shimmered off the melting tarmac. Across the street commuters poured out of the train station.
    ‘I’ve been there