Made of red brick with attractive cream details over windows and door, the residence still had its curtains firmly drawn. Trudy pressed the doorbell, hoping her instincts were right, and that their victim lived alone. Surely, if he’d had a spouse, she would have reported him missing last night – or in the early hours? Or, more likely, she’d have been at the same party with him – in which case, what had she been doing after the car accident?

There were no sounds coming from inside the house, but she rang the bell again just to make sure. She hated having to deliver bad news to the relatives of people who had died, and she couldn’t help but smile slightly as she turned to the man beside her. ‘Looks as if nobody’s home.’

‘No,’ Clement agreed. ‘Let’s try next door.’

It was starting to get fully light now, but Trudy wasn’t sure if anybody would be up yet. Especially if the neighbours either side of Terrence Parker had stayed up to see the new year in.

Still, that couldn’t really be helped.

They walked back up the path, choosing the house on the right first. She banged on the doorknocker and waited. Its sharp, peremptory noise sounded ominous, even to her ears, and she could only wonder what the householders felt at being awakened like this on such a cold, dark morning.

She knocked again, and was finally rewarded by the sound of someone obviously coming down the stairs. From that she surmised that the front door led straight into the hallway, with the stairs facing them. Whoever it was descending sounded heavy.

The door opened with a yank, and a large, fleshy woman dressed in a pink flannel housecoat wrapped tightly around her figure, glared out at them. She was probably in her early fifties, Trudy gauged, with short curly brown hair that was almost certainly the result of a permanent wave, and large brown eyes that looked slightly red-rimmed.

‘Yes?’ the woman said, her eyes growing wider with alarm as she took in Trudy’s uniform, and then looking even more worried as she regarded the unmistakable figure of authority that was Dr Ryder, standing slightly behind and to the left of her.

‘Oh no, it’s not my Frank, is it?’ she said, swallowing hard, all the colour leaching out of her rounded face.

‘No, it’s about your next-door neighbour,’ Trudy reassured her hastily, assuming that Frank was a family member.

‘Oh, him!’ The woman sagged against the doorframe, breathing out in obvious relief, then instantly looked guilty. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean … What’s up with Terry then? He’s all right, is he?’ Her eyes went from Trudy to the coroner, then back again.