There was nothing unusual about the body apart from the gaping hole in the skull. No defensive wounds, nor any other injuries or haemorrhages. The guy had been taken out. X-rays showed that one single bullet was left inside the brain. Ted took a pair of long tweezers that looked like they belonged in a museum and began fiddling inside the man’s head, pausing occasionally to check the apparent paths of the bullets. Kelly watched as he pulled, but nothing came out so he tried again. He tutted and attached a camera to the instrument, then flicked on a monitor. Kelly knew that bullets did extraordinary things inside the human body: they rarely travelled predictably. This time, with the minuscule accuracy of technology, he located the small slug of metal, and pulled it out.

‘Bingo. Nine millimetre. Probably a Glock. It’s all I ever saw on cases like this in Manchester. Pistol for sure.’

Kelly agreed that a Glock would be the weapon of choice for a criminal in the UK, but they’d still need to send it away for analysis. One day they might find the weapon, and no two bullets left a ballistic chamber in the same way. Each firing of a shot in its entirety caused a different configuration of damage. It was as solid as a fingerprint or a drop of semen, but without the gun, it was useless.

‘I’ll do toxicology and histology. You never know, he could have been drugged,’ Ted said. ‘Can I buy you lunch?’ he added.

Kelly nodded, staring down at the man on the slab. She hadn’t really looked at his face when he’d been slumped over the captain’s wheel of The Lady of the Lake. He had a kind face; he looked like somebody’s grandfather. X-rays had already been taken of the jaw, and they were hoping for a name any time soon. For now, he was known as Mr Launch.

Chapter 7

Kelly read DC Emma Hide’s report on the Allerdale House burglary. Everything had to come past her for a signature. It was still a live case, and photographs of what the owner thought had gone missing had been distributed to forces up and down Cumbria. Specialist websites and magazines, as well as known criminals, were usually the first ports of call. The list included several sail cloths, two trailers, one small solid mahogany and oak support launch, a prized two-man sweep oar boat made in 1919 that had hung from the ceiling, three brand new engines, and an array of diving kit worth over two grand on its own. It was more than they had anticipated; the value of the stolen goods was inching up to half a million pounds, and that only included those with a price tag: one of the antique boats was priceless.