Anyway, what else is up?’

‘There’s been a shooting,’ Johnson stated coldly. ‘At the Coconut Grove nightclub. Two in intensive care.’

‘You’re having me on!’ Simms’s pulse quickened. A serious incident, no one else on call, just him to pick it up. It was a gift. ‘The Coconut Grove, eh? Bet Big H ain’t happy about that.’

‘Too right,’ Johnson said sombrely. ‘He’s one of them that got shot.’

‘I know you turn your nose up at Julian and Elizabeth, William,’ said Beryl Simpson. Her green eyes were misty, Frost wasn’t sure whether from booze or genuine emotion; probably both. The afternoon was waning, and he wished it would all end. ‘And despite what you think of us, and all this’ – she waved the glass unsteadily around her – ‘we’re not precious about money. Certainly the girls were well educated, and that’s because of George. George worked hard to provide them with opportunities he never had.’ Mrs Simpson looked to the vicar for confirmation of this statement. Father Hill, of whom Frost was fond, nodded encouragingly, and then endeavoured to steer the conversation away from family feuds by clasping her shoulder and adding something about generous donations to the Church.

However, Frost’s emotions were running high as well, and he wasn’t finished with her yet.

‘I’ve never said a thing, Beryl,’ he replied, prompting Father Hill to give him a scathing look.

‘You don’t have to, it’s in your manner,’ she almost sneered, revealing the lines decorum and powder had hidden. She suddenly looked her age – just when he was almost beginning to fancy her again. ‘And for all your high-mindedness you never took proper care of Mary. Whereas Julian’ – her glass indicating the favoured son-in-law, lounging on the sofa with legs sprawled apart – ‘he may only be a car dealer to you—’

‘He is a car dealer, Beryl!’ Frost exclaimed, looking expectantly at the vicar for a sign of solidarity. ‘To everyone!’ Father Hill studied the marble floor, unwilling to get involved.

‘You know damn well what I mean – the point is, he loves Elizabeth … and …’

Frost stared intently. Don’t you dare try and claim he’s never cheated on her, he thought.

Beryl Simpson held herself, and touched her bottom lip, as if to check it was still there. He thought for an instant she was going to continue her tirade, but all she said was, ‘Just get me another drink.’

‘Do you mind if we discuss the particulars another time, Sidney? I don’t feel it appropriate to go into such things here.’

‘No, quite.’ Mullett flushed. What was he thinking in pursuing it? He must’ve had more sherry than he thought. The elderly Mason had acknowledged him and that should suffice for now. So as not to add to the embarrassment, he didn’t correct the old boy on his name.

‘Besides, you could start looking closer to home,’ Simpson added. ‘The force is no stranger to our organization.’

A woman approached with a sherry bottle. She was slightly chubby but with a hard face, and Mullett surmised that she must be the other daughter, whose name he couldn’t remember. ‘Top-up?’ she asked. He’d probably had enough but it was rather good sherry, so he grinned amiably and watched the bronze liquid flow. One more, then he really must be off to the station.

‘You’re Will’s boss,’ she said abruptly.

‘Sergeant Frost?’ He smiled as generously as he could. ‘Yes, I have the honour of having William serve under me.’

She looked surprised. ‘You call it an honour? We’ve been led to believe he’s a royal pain in the backside, eh, Dad?’

Simpson senior merely raised his eyebrows.

‘Well, he has his own inimitable style, and yes, we do have our ups and downs,’ Mullett admitted. He took a proffered cigarette.