May was late. And he had never been late before. Riggs looked at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Or that’s what Viv Trubshaw thought. Where is he? It’s not like Don at all. You can set your watch by him.

Fizz tut-tutted at Riggs.

‘What’s wrong Charlie? Can’t wait to get started?’

The Detective Constable gipped at this point but managed (he hoped successfully) to turn it into a cough. Trubshaw smiled, remembering how she had felt just before observing her first post-mortem.  

‘Sorry, Fizz, must have been something I ate last night’.

‘Dr Harbord to you, matey. You don’t know me well enough to call me Fizz. But you do know me well enough by now NOT to call me Felicity, I hope!’