He slumped back in his chair and eyed her belligerently. ‘I just need you to go to the scene, organise the paperwork, oversee the removal of the body and make general inquiries. General inquiries, mind!’ he emphasised. ‘Although when a medical officer will be able to get out to confirm death with everything they’ve got on their plate … it’ll probably take them hours.’ His eyes glinted in malevolent, sudden good humour. ‘So try not to freeze to death, Constable.’

‘Sir,’ Trudy sighed.

‘Once someone more senior becomes available you can hand it all over to him,’ Jennings informed her. ‘If I can get Sergeant O’Grady on the phone, and if he’s feeling better, he might be able to take it on,’ he muttered, but didn’t sound very hopeful. ‘If not, you might have to carry on doing the basics until I can find someone.’

‘Yes, sir!’ she said eagerly. Even if it did turn out to be something so run-of-the-mill, this was the first time her superior officer was willing to trust her with something substantial, at last!

‘All right then, off you go. You know the drill,’ he added vaguely. ‘Preliminary inquiries only, mind,’ he repeated.

‘Yes, sir. Er …’ Trudy hesitated.

‘Well?’ Jennings snapped.

‘I was just wondering, sir, if the police surgeon’s office is so busy … Might it not be a good idea to call on Dr Ryder? In a pinch, he’d have the authority to confirm death, and allow the mortuary people to move the body? Otherwise …’

The inspector’s first thought was to roar out, ‘No, you bloody well can’t call on the old vulture!’ This was the nickname for the coroner that most members of the police force (and several not in the police force) often used behind Clement Ryder’s back. The inspector didn’t like it when his WPC and the coroner got together – they very often discovered more trouble than he would like.

But then he caught back the knee-jerk reaction, and instead a crafty smile spread across his face. It was blowing freezing snow out there, and he doubted Dr Clement Ryder would be pleased at being winkled out of his cosy home on New Year’s morning to go to the scene of a road traffic accident, and perform so humble a task as to pronounce a death. The former surgeon would think it well beneath his status and dignity.

Serve him right!

‘Of course, Constable,’ he said sweetly. ‘A good idea. It might not be very orthodox, but given how much the police surgeon has been complaining how backlogged they are, I’m sure I can square it with their office.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Trudy said, beaming, and shot out the door before he could change his mind.

Jennings chuckled, then winced as his head began to throb. Glumly, he saw the day stretching grimly ahead. Just how many of his officers could he expect to straggle in?