empty tea cups on the tray and get up to follow him out of the room. Detective Sergeant Sabine goes first and Matt and I follow. After a few seconds, Matt taps James on the shoulder.
'Sir?'
'Yes Matt?'
'You seem to have something stuck to your, er, trousers.'
Detective Sergeant Sabine puts out an exploratory hand and soon enough it emerges with the sweet wrapper. He places it in his pocket. I take an inordinate amount of interest in the hall furnishings.
'Thank you, Matt.' His face is impassive and his steely eyes flicker towards me. We go through into an enormous kitchen and Sebastian Forquar-White opens up a door at the back of the room. It is a sort of larder.
'They got in here.' He points to a really small window up in the corner. 'The catch was forced. Bloody typical, you know, because the insurance company only told me last week to repair it. Always the way, isn't it?'
'Yes,' says James Sabine thoughtfully, 'yes, it is.' He looks up at the window for a minute and then asks, 'Has anything been touched while you waited for us?'
'No, no, nothing.'
'Good. Matt, can you radio for the forensics officers to come down please, and get uniform on to the neighbours?'
Matt departs on his errand.
'Isn't that window quite small for anyone to get inside?' I ask.
'Well, maybe a small person got through it, Miss Colshannon,' Detective Sergeant Sabine remarks acidly, not looking up from the notebook he's studying.
We go back into the kitchen and then out another door into the garden. Mr Forquar-White gestures towards the burglar alarm which has been placed in a bucket of water. We go back to the sitting room and wait for the forensics team to arrive. James Sabine asks more questions. When forensics eventually turn up, he goes out to meet them. As an afterthought, he turns back to me. 'Don't touch anything. And don't get in the way.'
'Yes, sir,' I reply, standing to attention and giving a mock salute. Possibly a tad cheeky, but really, he's winding me up like a clockwork toy.
The three forensics officers get changed into jumpsuits in the hallway and James Sabine briefs them on the burglary. I stand and watch, hoping for a chance to chat to one of them. I am banned from going into the dining room (I might contaminate the scene of the crime) so my chance doesn't come until lunch time when they come clattering out having finished the job. I immediately dump the Marmite sandwich that Anton has kindly made me and leap on the nearest one. He is in his late fifties. Out of a thatch of thick grey hair peeps a pair of sparkling eyes. After the formal introductions (he is called Roger) I ask him if he has found anything.
'Sorry, love. Can't tell you that, only the officer in charge.'
'Yes or no?' I ask pleadingly.
He grins at me. 'Yes, but you'll have to ask him.'
I look around and spot James Sabine speaking to an officer a few feet away.
'Detective Sergeant Sabine?' I call. He looks around.
'What?'
'Can Roger tell me about the forensic evidence?'
He hesitates for a second, probably weighing up the Chiefs reaction if he refuses versus his own complete reluctance to tell me anything.
'OK. But if you print any of it, I'll wring your neck.'
I turn back to Roger, beaming.
Roger begins, 'Well, we found some fibres. They could pretty much be from anything – clothes, car seats, any sort of fabric really – and nigh on impossible to pin down to something particular. We also found a hair which can be submitted for DNA testing. Unfortunately that takes quite a long time to come back from the lab, but the positive thing is we can put the DNA information through the computer and if the culprit has a record then the computer will produce a name. Otherwise we can take the DNA from a suspect and link them to the scene. We also found a substance around the cabinet where the missing items were kept, but I don't know what it is. It may have been on the gloves that the burglar was using as it was also found around the window catch at the
'Sir?'
'Yes Matt?'
'You seem to have something stuck to your, er, trousers.'
Detective Sergeant Sabine puts out an exploratory hand and soon enough it emerges with the sweet wrapper. He places it in his pocket. I take an inordinate amount of interest in the hall furnishings.
'Thank you, Matt.' His face is impassive and his steely eyes flicker towards me. We go through into an enormous kitchen and Sebastian Forquar-White opens up a door at the back of the room. It is a sort of larder.
'They got in here.' He points to a really small window up in the corner. 'The catch was forced. Bloody typical, you know, because the insurance company only told me last week to repair it. Always the way, isn't it?'
'Yes,' says James Sabine thoughtfully, 'yes, it is.' He looks up at the window for a minute and then asks, 'Has anything been touched while you waited for us?'
'No, no, nothing.'
'Good. Matt, can you radio for the forensics officers to come down please, and get uniform on to the neighbours?'
Matt departs on his errand.
'Isn't that window quite small for anyone to get inside?' I ask.
'Well, maybe a small person got through it, Miss Colshannon,' Detective Sergeant Sabine remarks acidly, not looking up from the notebook he's studying.
We go back into the kitchen and then out another door into the garden. Mr Forquar-White gestures towards the burglar alarm which has been placed in a bucket of water. We go back to the sitting room and wait for the forensics team to arrive. James Sabine asks more questions. When forensics eventually turn up, he goes out to meet them. As an afterthought, he turns back to me. 'Don't touch anything. And don't get in the way.'
'Yes, sir,' I reply, standing to attention and giving a mock salute. Possibly a tad cheeky, but really, he's winding me up like a clockwork toy.
The three forensics officers get changed into jumpsuits in the hallway and James Sabine briefs them on the burglary. I stand and watch, hoping for a chance to chat to one of them. I am banned from going into the dining room (I might contaminate the scene of the crime) so my chance doesn't come until lunch time when they come clattering out having finished the job. I immediately dump the Marmite sandwich that Anton has kindly made me and leap on the nearest one. He is in his late fifties. Out of a thatch of thick grey hair peeps a pair of sparkling eyes. After the formal introductions (he is called Roger) I ask him if he has found anything.
'Sorry, love. Can't tell you that, only the officer in charge.'
'Yes or no?' I ask pleadingly.
He grins at me. 'Yes, but you'll have to ask him.'
I look around and spot James Sabine speaking to an officer a few feet away.
'Detective Sergeant Sabine?' I call. He looks around.
'What?'
'Can Roger tell me about the forensic evidence?'
He hesitates for a second, probably weighing up the Chiefs reaction if he refuses versus his own complete reluctance to tell me anything.
'OK. But if you print any of it, I'll wring your neck.'
I turn back to Roger, beaming.
Roger begins, 'Well, we found some fibres. They could pretty much be from anything – clothes, car seats, any sort of fabric really – and nigh on impossible to pin down to something particular. We also found a hair which can be submitted for DNA testing. Unfortunately that takes quite a long time to come back from the lab, but the positive thing is we can put the DNA information through the computer and if the culprit has a record then the computer will produce a name. Otherwise we can take the DNA from a suspect and link them to the scene. We also found a substance around the cabinet where the missing items were kept, but I don't know what it is. It may have been on the gloves that the burglar was using as it was also found around the window catch at the
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