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keep telling myself. Doesn’t stop the grey hairs from ignoring me.”
    Brian waited for Luther to continue.
    “But, um, yes, like I was saying. I didn’t really know the girl outside of work. I’m really busy attending charity events, public speaking‌–‌all the fun stuff my colleagues force me into. But yeah‌–‌if it would help to chat to her co-volunteers from the organisation committee, I can bring them right up here, or you can go downst…”
    The door creaked open, and a short man with glasses poked his head through. He looked back at Luther, who raised his hand and gestured for the man to enter.
    “Detective McDone, this is Michael Walters, my friend and adviser of‌–‌what, sixteen years?”
    Michael Walters and Brian shook hands. Limp handshake. Slightly damp. Walters wore a grey jumper under his blazer. His curly, balding hair would have benefited from a shave.
    “The pair of us practically invented BetterLives from the ground up,” Luther said. “And the charity before this, and the charity before that. This chap keeps me right in order and stops me making the daft decisions.”
    “Don’t flatter yourself, Robert. I was here first. I just needed a ventriloquist’s dummy to do the hard work!” Michael laughed and smiled nervously at Robert, who tutted and shook his head. Not as confident as his boss. Not as self-assured. Probably still an egomaniac.
    “Detective McDone here has just been chatting to me about Nicola Watson. I was just about to take him down to meet some of our team myself, but if you could do the honours, Mike, then I’d be grateful.”
    Michael nodded cautiously. “Don’t see why not. But most of them aren’t back from their Christmas holidays yet.”
    Luther turned back to Brian. “Yeah, being voluntary, there’s not a lot we can do about the holidays.”
    “That’s okay. Just let me have a quick chat with whoever is here. We just want an idea of the sort of girl Nicola was more than anything.” Brian pulled a card out of his pocket. “If you remember something, or if a little fact or detail comes to mind, just give me a call, okay? Number’s on there.”
    Luther gripped it between his fingers. “I’ll be sure to. Good luck with the investigation. I’ll mention the girl in my speech later.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Luther.” Brian followed Michael out of the cosy wooden office and towards the lift.
    Michael Walters walked down the corridor, shaking his hips, every step over exaggerated. Probably fancied his boss. Probably the main reason he stuck around. Yes, Mr. Luther. Of course, Mr. Luther.
    “Nicola’s team is just down there.” He pointed to a little section in the corner of the office where old computers were stacked up beside ancient monitors. The room was empty aside from a young man with slicked back hair.
    Michael smiled at Brian. “I’ve cleared the room out for you so you can chat to Nicola’s colleagues in private.”
    “Thanks.” He definitely said “colleagues”, didn’t he? And yet, there was only one man in the room. Walters nodded and began to scoot off.
    “Did you know Nicola Watson?” Brian asked.
    Walters stopped and spun ‘round. “Me? Oh, I don’t know anybody around here. I’m just the figures man. Recognised the girl, though. Terrible shame. I’ll get someone to see you out when you’ve finished. Anything else, Detective?”
    “That’ll do for now. Get in touch if you find any info out.”
    “I’m planning on getting a full questioning of the staff sorted once we’re all back. Of course, I’ll be in touch.” He smiled and walked back towards the lift.
    Brian turned to the office room, the one man in his baggy clothes staring back at him.
    The man was called Joshua Clements. He’d worked at BetterLives for just as long as Nicola, so they’d sorted many of the events out together.
    “She was always a laugh,” he said, twiddling his tie. The steam that should have risen from his half-full teacup was