Hawkins was about to ask another question when her phone rang. She fished it out of her pocket. Answered.

‘Ma’am?’ Aaron’s tone was serious. ‘Can you talk?’

‘Sort of. What’s up?’

‘How soon can you get to Camberwell?’

‘Why?’

‘There’s a new body, ma’am, and it looks like another defibrillator job.’

48

Hawkins turned off a surprisingly built-up main street into the Elmington Estate. She pulled up and got out of the car, beside a poster declaring the imminent arrival of stylish modern apartments.

She turned and stood for a moment, taking in Chester Court, a dilapidated four-storey block of sixties flats, with red metal mesh lining the narrow walkways, and heavy-duty security cages covering about half the visible doors. Obviously, flats that became vacant here weren’t being repopulated. The place was probably being emptied to clear the way for more new buildings, but the makeshift washing line and various mountain bikes occupying the second-floor balcony suggested that several residents remained; those probably unable to afford whatever high-end properties were due to replace their homes.

Around her, three police vehicles confirmed that this was the place. A large SOCO van was parked near the building, behind a Met-liveried Focus, and a Golf she recognized from the pool at Becke House. The van and the Ford were deserted, but Hawkins spotted movement in the front of the VW. She walked over to find Aaron Sharpe in the driver’s seat, engrossed in a brightly coloured puzzle game on his phone.

She tapped hard on the glass, making him jump. He fumbled with the ignition key and lowered the window, twisting to look up at her. ‘Sorry, ma’am, didn’t see you.’

‘Evidently,’ she said, raising eyebrows at his mobile until he lowered it on to the passenger seat. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Oh, er …’ Aaron blinked. ‘The SOCO team was held up in traffic; they only got here twenty minutes ago.’

‘And you owed Candy Crush some alone-time.’

‘No. The pathologist guy said they needed to get straight before we go in.’

‘Did he now?’ Hawkins glanced at the property, where a lone uniform was now visible, guarding the entrance. ‘Let me handle Gerry.’

‘It isn’t Pritchard,’ Aaron protested. ‘I didn’t recognize him. Must be new.’

‘Either way, we aren’t waiting.’ She yanked the door open. ‘Come on.’

Aaron complied.

‘So?’ she asked when he’d locked the car.