She groaned. ‘What about it?’

‘You entered a crime scene, knowing very well that the best way of helping the victim was by calling 999 immediately and not trampling over evidence.’

The shrug was a reflex action, and quick as a flash. ‘What if he was alive?’

‘It doesn’t matter. You don’t put yourself in danger. You check whether the scene is safe before you do anything else.’ I’d seen the toys, and strained my ears for the sound of a child, partner or flatmate. ‘You could have got yourself shot. Don’t you care?’ It was odd to be having a similar conversation with Suzie, to the one Jackie had had with me.

She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Does it look like it?’ She gestured to the empty room.

‘As unarmed police officers, we are told repeatedly that we mustn’t enter a crime scene where there’s a possibility that someone’s armed. We have to wait until firearms officers have declared the site safe to enter.’

‘OK, I geddit. Can you switch the lecture off now?’

‘You cannot put yourself at risk like that.’

‘What do you care?’

‘Enough to come round here and say it.’ And I didn’t see anyone else doing that.

‘That’s rich. When we both know it’s your precious crime scene that you care about.’

‘Of course I care about that. It’s our best evidence source. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care if you get your brains blown out chasing a story. Is a scoop really worth getting yourself killed for?’

She snorted. This time the gesture was more conciliatory than hostile.

‘I’ll take that as a “no”.’ I paused. ‘Look, I know we’ve had our run-ins, but you’ve got to keep yourself safe and you’ve got to stay off crime scenes. If public interests are your priority . . . ’

She flashed me a piss off look . . .

‘Then not doing things which impede police investigations should also be your priority. OK? Let us do our job, and you do yours.’

‘I had no idea you had such a caring side, Inspector.’ She pulled her cheeks upwards into a sneering grin.

‘And I had no idea that you got scared.’ I knew she’d seen me clock the chain on the door. I recalibrated. It was now or never. ‘I also wanted to speak to you about something else . . . ’

‘Ah. The personal matter.’

‘I gather you covered Józef Feldman’s funeral for the paper last year? Rosa’s husband?’

She was frowning. ‘What if I did?’

‘Would it be possible to see some of the photographs you took of the day?’

She was staring intently. ‘Why? Has this got something to do with the murders?’

‘No. Rosa has just told me that my dad was at the funeral. And two friends of his. We’ve . . . we’ve lost touch.’