The pathologist ran her torch over the face of the corpse again. ‘I’ll be able to confirm that after the PM. It depends what damage I find underneath the tissue. If the bone is fractured, it might suggest blunt-force trauma – an injury caused by a greater impact than a simple fall.’

‘A blow to the head?’

‘Possibly. It might not be as plain as that in my report.’

‘He’s been lying here a while. He’s already starting to smell a bit.’

‘Yes, he’s been dead a couple of days. That might make it more difficult. Post-mortem changes can mask small injuries. There’s a very strong smell of alcohol, too.’

‘Yes, I noticed that.’

Nichols’s body lay wedged between a bench seat and a fold-up table. The angle of his limbs gave the impression he’d been struggling, but whether against an attacker or just to get up, it wasn’t clear. He was face-up, and had vomited at some time – well, a couple of days ago, at least. His stomach was white and bloated where it was exposed, but his face and hands looked thin to the point of gauntness. He was unshaven, and his dark hair was receding.

The interior of the caravan was strewn with clothes, and a number of empty lager cans stood on the drainer by the tiny sink. A scatter of papers and magazines lay on the table next to a little portable TV set, but Cooper was afraid to touch them. Best to let the SOCOs sort them out after the body had been removed.

‘I presume he lived on his own,’ said Hitchens later, as he stood well clear of the smell.

‘Yes, I think it would be safe to say that, sir.’

‘What else have we got, Ben?’

Cooper flicked open his notebook. ‘He’s known as Simon Nichols, but that’s probably not his real name. He’s aged about fifty-five, and he’d lived here for eight months. The caravan belongs to the farmer, who doesn’t seem to have asked many questions.’

‘I hope he didn’t pay too much rent. I’ve never seen such a dump.’

‘I gather it was in exchange for his work on the farm. Free accommodation and probably less than the minimum wage. It was originally used for accommodating foreign students who came over in the summer to help with the harvest. But this farm hasn’t produced a decent crop for years.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘Didn’t you notice the field on the way in? It’s full of bracken and ragwort. The place has been neglected.’

‘OK. And this is Nikolov?’

‘Well, Nichols certainly wasn’t his real name. Mr Finney admits that his worker wasn’t British. He never asked him about his nationality, but guessed he might be Polish. Nichols didn’t speak much English, only what he needed to get by.’

‘I bet “beer” was a word he knew,’ said Hitchens.