He indicated the property they were looking for and Holdsworth steered her XJS – a marked improvement on his Fiesta and Capstick’s Punto – into the nearest space along an avenue lined with sycamores.
They were in luck. Despite the darkness, Jake Downing was shooting hoops in the garden of the semi-detached he rented with his student pals. Sant came from behind him, stole the basketball, slam-dunked it first time. Still in good shape.
Jake was half-amused, half-annoyed. ‘So you’ve tracked me down, officers. I kind of expected a van load of your troopers scurrying down to London to snare me in their net. Care for a drink at my humble abode?’
Sant ignored the offer. ‘Let’s get down to business, Mr Downing. When last we spoke you mentioned an altercation you’d had with Chloe at your birthda
