Cursing, Paula slotted the car into a disabled slot and propped a sign saying ‘police’ on the dashboard. It went against the grain, but then so did getting soaked to the skin on semi-official business. She consoled herself with the thought that not many disabled people would fancy negotiating the cobbles of the canal basin in monsoon conditions. As she headed for Tony’s floating home, she wondered fleetingly whether she should have phoned ahead. He didn’t exactly have a vibrant social life, but it wasn’t unusual for him to take long walks through the city. They were, he’d told her, a cross between sociological observation and thinking time. ‘Watch and learn, that’s what psychologists need to do,’ he’d said in an uncharacteristically frank exchange about the way he approached his work. ‘And then you have to apply what you’ve learned to what you observe.’ ‘You’re better at it than most,’ Paula had commented. ‘It’s not rocket science. It’s mostly common sense mixed up with a bit of compassion and empathy.
