‘What about upstairs? What’s the thoughts on time of death? This morning or last night?’

‘Definitely last night, ma’am. No question.’

Levy considered the answer for a moment, gazing again at the long, empty road as she did so.

‘Shorten the cordon,’ she finally said. ‘Bring it back so that it’s twenty metres from the entrance to the building in both directions.’

‘Ma’am?’ Levy could hear the confusion in the officer’s tone. ‘But the forensics team haven’t been up and down the road yet?’

‘And nor will they.’ Levy had no need to explain her decisions, but there was nothing to be lost in educating a potential future detective. ‘This is one of the busiest roads in the area but it was only closed off this morning – once the market had already opened – to secure a crime scene that was already maybe ten hours old. Any forensics on the road itself will be long gone. Trampled away overnight and this morning. All we’re doing by keeping this road closed is hurting the local trade. People we might need to rely on for what they’ve seen or heard.’

The officer nodded his understanding.

‘Twenty metres, ma’am. I’ll get it done.’

‘Thank you.’

The officer moved off to follow his instructions. Levy called after him as he went.

‘And make sure the shops and stalls outside of the new cordon know they can open for business, please.’

Levy turned towards the open doorway. The shopfront beside it was of a modern pawn shop. The kind that takes electrical and valuable goods, never really expecting to see the pawner again. Never really believing the goods were anything but stolen.

Cash business, Levy thought. Helpful thing for a gang to control.

There was nothing remarkable about the doorway itself, other than the number of police officers moving in and around it. The irregular stream stopped as Levy approached. A line of officers stood aside to let her pass.

Levy walked through the door and up the stairs. It was a short climb. One flight. At the top were two doors and the start of a further flight.

One of the doors led to a toilet. The other was open wide, exposing a room that was out of keeping with both the exterior of the building and the common areas Levy had seen so far. She stepped inside.

The dark decor of the room provided was a stark contrast to the cracked white paint of the stairwell. Even the inside of the door itself showed the difference: whitewashed and unremarkable from the outside, on the office side it was carefully varnished and maintained, and its brass handle shone. Someone had taken care to disguise this room from without, while a lot of money had been spent for the inside to give a very different impression.

Four victims.

Levy noted the four sheets laid carefully on the office floor. Each covered a body. If the crime scene had been a TV show the bodies and the sheets would be long gone. Replaced by a chalk or taped outline. This was a quirk of poorly researched cop shows. In the real world, it was only worth moving a victim and risking forensic evidence when a life could be saved. There was no such urgency when the victim was already dead. In those circumstances the body stayed where it fell, with the integrity of the crime scene taking priority.