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‘Where are you going? DI Flynn said you had to look through them.’
He threw his mug in the bin. ‘I’m going to brush my teeth fifteen times.’
Poe returned ten minutes later, his face ashen. Flynn was back on the binoculars.
‘Stop being such a drama queen, Poe,’ she said. ‘There’s a shop in Covent Garden that sells breast-milk ice cream.’
‘Yuk,’ Bradshaw said. ‘Even if I wasn’t vegan, I wouldn’t try that.’
Poe didn’t respond.
‘What’s the matter, Poe?’ Bradshaw said, more attuned to his moods these days.
‘I need to go,’ he said.
‘Now?’ Flynn said.
‘Now.’
‘You can’t. I need to take breaks and Tilly can’t command the guys on the ground.’
‘I’ve got to gonow, boss.’
‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘I’ve just taken a call from Northumbria Police.’
‘If they’re making a referral, it’ll have to wait.’
‘It’s not a referral.’
‘What did they want then?’
‘It’s Estelle Doyle,’ Poe said.
‘What about her?’
‘She’s been arrested for murder.’
Flynn paused for less than a second.
‘Go,’ she said.
At about the same time Poe was racing north to find out exactly what had happened to his friend, the Right Honourable Member for Sheffield East was receiving a pressed flower in the post …
