He grabbed his phone, found Rothwell’s number, hit the call button. It took an eternity for the professor to answer, but he did. He was enjoying a pleasant Saturday afternoon round of golf. Sant would put an end to that.
‘Before you take another backswing, professor, I want Dr Gordon’s home address. Now!’
Rothwell was clearly unsettled by the interruption to his short game. ‘Inspector, I cannot possibly verify that information. All employee details are held with my secretary and–’
‘Try again!’ Sant yelled down the line. ‘I need that address as of yesterday!’
Stay cool, he thought.
Be patient, he told himself.
He stayed on the line, imagining the professor traversing blushing green fairways to his pearl white Range Rover and the diary contained therein. It felt like forever, but final
