The roads were noticeably quieter, no bored children staring from bus windows, and fewer commuters, faces resigned in misty car windscreens. Even the weather was playing along with the seasonal upturn in spirits, a high- pressure system, beloved of the Wessex Tonight weatherman, lingering over the country and bringing its attendant blue skies and sunny, chilly, days. Christmas was on the Friday, meaning an extended run of time off for many. The expressions of the people Dan passed as he drove to Charles Cross seemed softer, perhaps with the anticipation of release from the routines of work, and the chance for some justified over-indulgence. This was no ordinary Monday morning, grimmest of the week’s grind. It was coming up to nine o’clock and Dan had parked at the back of the police station. His arrival prompted less mirth than before, just a couple of half hearted jibes. Perhaps even the Christmas spirit had infected the police, or maybe the novelty of the TV detective was wearing off.
