‘Go on, I’ll see everybody on Monday.’ She let her team disperse and went back inside the office. The phone stopped ringing but she checked the number anyway. Her heart sank as she realised that the call was from the central switchboard for Cumbria Police. All 999 calls went to three pods in the county: Kendal, Penrith and Carlisle. This one had come in to Penrith and she noticed that the code required a detective on scene. She waited, knowing that the phone would ring again.

It did.

The operator briefed her on an incident at a domestic property on the outskirts of Keswick, in Braithwaite. Kelly’s gut turned over and she calculated if she had time to drive home to Pooley Bridge and grab something to eat. The crime scene was stable and secure, and a forensic team had been dispatched to process the address.

Kelly didn’t call back any member of her team. An initial assessment would tell her if she needed a partner. She was loath to disturb anyone after telling them they could enjoy their Friday. Hers was about to be screwed, but not as much as the poor woman who lay in a pile of cat litter. Kelly had been given a cursory description of the main characteristics of the crime. A CSI had mapped out the floorplan of the property and Kelly was emailed the initial report from the uniformed responders to the 999 call. The original 999 call had been made from a payphone in the middle of nowhere. Red telephone boxes still existed in parts of Cumbria and this one was at a cross roads near Whitehaven: miles away from the property where the crime had occurred. It was curious.

The woman in question was pronounced life deceased at the scene by medics, who’d packed up and gone home. The forensic team had quickly concluded that the death was a homicide.

She called Johnny.