She’s young, early thirties max with brunette – almost black, hair. She’s standing back from the mourners and observing the burial from a safe distance behind the tree. She doesn’t want to be seen but it’s a bit late for that now. I nod at Davis. ‘Keep an eye on things,’ I say making my way over towards the woman, but she’s already clocked me and turned on her heels in the opposite direction. I quicken my pace and catch up to her.

‘Excuse me, Miss?’

She gives me a quick sideways glance but keeps up her pace. Seems she’s not in a talkative mood. She’s younger up close, mid to late twenties I’d say, but hard-faced, like she’s seen things she shouldn’t have.

‘I noticed you hanging back by the tree… Are you here for Nigel Baxter’s funeral? You a friend of his?’

She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. ‘I wouldn’t say friend exactly.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘What’s it to you?’ she shrugs.

‘Detective Riley,’ I say, reaching for my ID. ‘Would you mind stopping a moment?’ She’s wearing high heels – noticeably high – and her black dress is low-cut and looks expensive. She’s got brass written through her like a stick of Blackpool rock.

She rolls her eyes a little. ‘Look, Nigel’s just someone I… someone I knew, alright… I wanted to pay my respects, that’s all, not a crime is it?’

I shake my head. ‘Not at all… Miss…?’

‘Leah,’ she sighs, ‘Leah Carlton.’

‘Miss Carlton… I’m taking it you weren’t formally invited here today. How do you know the deceased? How did you know Nigel?’

She takes a cigarette from her handbag and lights it, there’s a smudge of lipstick on her teeth.

‘Dunno really, we were just mates…’ She starts walking again, slower this time like she’s resigned to my presence.

‘Come on, Leah,’ I say, ‘you’ll have to do better than that. Was he a client?’

She purses her lips, blowing smoking forcefully from them. ‘I liked him – he was nice, Nigel. Friendly, kind… and very generous,’ she adds.

‘When did you first meet?’

‘Two years ago, through a mutual friend.’

‘An escort agency?’

‘Nah… yoga class.’

‘Which agency?’

She looks at me. Her eyes are almost as dark as her hair and I try not to think about the things they may have seen.

‘I work for myself. I’m my own boss.’

‘So he contacted you through an advert?’

‘Look, what is this? Are you going to pinch me for attending a funeral?’

‘No,’ I say, ‘but we can always go down to the station and do this there if that suits you more?’

Leah snorts quietly. ‘Yes,’ she says reluctantly, ‘through an advert in a magazine.’

‘Which one?’

‘Women’s fucking Own.’

‘Did you visit him regularly?’

‘About once a month.’

‘How long for?’

She shrugs. ‘I dunno, a little over a year, maybe fourteen months… He was a regular until—’

‘Until what?’

‘Until he found a new girl, I suppose. I don’t ask questions. It’s not part of the job description if you know what I mean.’

‘So he was a regular until he starting using someone else?’

‘Yeah… I was kind of upset he’d found a new favourite actually, I grew quite fond of him in the end. Like I said, he was a nice old bloke – easy to be with, quick, pretty normal really… compared to some of them.’ Her voice trails off. ‘I was sad when I heard what had happened to him, that he’d died and everything.’

Leah uses the word ‘old’ to describe Baxter. He was forty-seven.

‘Do you know her, this new girl he started seeing? Did you ever meet her?’

‘Some blonde,’ she shrugs again, ‘dunno what she had that I weren’t giving him though. He seemed quite happy with my services until she came on the scene, stuck-up bitch.’

My heart’s racing. ‘You met her?’

‘No, not exactly, saw them together in a hotel in Knightsbridge one time. Well, not together exactly. I was there with another cli… a friend.’ She flicks her cigarette onto the gravel and doesn’t bother to extinguish it.

‘How did you know they were together?’

‘I saw her go into the suite,’ Leah says, ‘looked like a right toffee-nosed cow… I was staying in the one opposite that night. Pissed me off a bit because he was my bread and butter you know, Nigel.’

‘Would you recognise this girl if you saw her again?’

She looks unsure. ‘Probably not, maybe? I dunno… She was just some blonde, white blonde, you know, platinum. Older than me though, or looked it,’ she says with a slight smirk, ‘bit skinny for his taste, Nige liked a bit of something to hold onto. Must’ve been like fucking Skeletor.’

I see Davis out of the corner of my eye and wave her over. ‘How long ago was this, when you saw them together?’

Leah shrugs again. ‘Three, four months ago maybe, dunno. Haven’t really had to think about it. Look, I just came here to say my goodbyes. I didn’t want to draw any attention to meself, what with his wife and kids and that. Can I go now?’

‘In a minute. I’d like my colleague to take a few more details.’

She sighs heavily.

‘He was murdered you know, Leah. Good, kind, generous Nigel, had his wrists sliced open, and was poisoned and left to bleed to death. It would really help us if you can give us as much information as you’re able to.’

Her eyes change a bit and I see a flicker of sadness in them, something resembling regret.

‘Alright,’ she says, ‘but make it quick because I’ve got another client at three.’

‘Thanks,’ I say as Davis reaches us.

‘Oh, and Leah, which hotel was this, which hotel were you staying in the night you saw Baxter and the blonde?’

Leah looks Davis up and down as she approaches, before taking another cigarette from her handbag and lighting it. ‘That posh one up in Knightsbridge: La Reymond,’ she says.