Dan took the stairs. There were no blood stains here, no empty dope bags or graffiti. The walls were papered and painted – belt and braces – and their surfaces gleamed. A thick cream carpet made the stairs springy under his shoes.

The second floor had a view out over the canal and lock. A woman was waiting for him, the flat door open. In jeans and a jumper, she was drying her hands on a tea-towel.

‘Mrs Grant? I’m Detective Maguire. Could I speak to you about your ex-husband?’

She nodded solemnly, and led him into the flat, past neat rows of coats and along a spotless hall. There wasn’t a scooter or toy in sight. The lounge was similarly immaculate with a large crate in the corner where games and toys were neatly stacked.

Dan thought about his girls, and how frustrated Aroona got at the continually scattered toys in their apartment at home. He felt a pang of homesickness. How he wished his life here had the cushion of a family to return home to, something permanent which wasn’t a part of him being a cop. ‘We are all very sorry for your loss.’ Dan let her settle.

She pulled her sleeves down over her wrists and shuffled over to a large red sofa.

‘We will do everything we can to find the person that’s responsible.’

‘What happened?’

‘He was found on the Manor House site first thing this morning. One of the workers was doing his rounds. We are treating it as a suspicious death.’

‘That means you think he was murdered, right?’

‘We suspect that’s the case but can’t say any more at the moment. His identity will be given in the media. I’ve arranged for a family liaison officer to come over shortly.’

Nicola was bent over with her arms round her knees, looking at the carpet. ‘I knew something like this would happen. I knew it. I told him over and over, you go back to that stuff and you’ll end up dead. I really thought he’d changed.’ Her voice creaked with anger.

‘Can your husband keep you company for a couple of days? It’s bound to be a dreadful shock.’ Dan was interested in why she feared Patrick would end up dead, but wanted to give her time to take the news in.

‘Alan will be back later.’ She had her hand clamped over her mouth. Wide, staring eyes were fixed on the floor in front of her as she rattled off a succession of questions and statements. ‘What am I going to tell Amanda? She’s going to be devastated. She adores her dad. Always has. It hit her hard when he and I split up. This is going to break her.’ Her eyes bulged with anguish. ‘How do you tell your daughter that her dad’s been murdered?’