Fry left the house to look outside. Someone was bound to have left their fingerprints somewhere in the house, in an area undamaged by the fire. The trouble was, it might well be a firefighter or a police officer. Not to mention members of the household and their various friends and relations. The footwear impressions were going to be useless, too. The layer of mud wasn’t deep enough, and the lab would never get a match, or identify a pattern.

She watched Downie carefully placing his evidence samples and control samples separately in his van. And she saw that he’d completed the most important items of all – the chain of custody forms.

Then she spotted Wayne Abbott standing in the road near one of the Scientific Support vehicles and walked across to him.

‘Is there any particular reason we got Liz Petty?’ she asked him.

Abbott turned in surprise, and she saw that he had a mobile phone pressed to his ear. ‘Hang on a minute,’ he said, and held the phone away to free both ears. ‘What was that?’

‘I wondered how we came to get Liz Petty,’ said Fry.

He stared at her, reflecting her hostility like a mirror. ‘Liz attended an inter-service fire investigation course at Ripley not so long ago. She was the obvious choice for this job. Why?’

‘Oh, no reason.’

‘She was up to her neck in volume crime, dealing with burglaries on the Southwoods Estate,’ said Abbott. ‘But we gave this priority for you. What’s the problem?’

‘Nothing.’

Abbott turned his back and resumed his phone call. ‘Sorry . . . no, it was just someone wasting my time.’

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Hitchens was waiting for Cooper and Murfin in the garden of Bain House. ‘The chiefs are talking about bringing in the NCOF,’ he said.

Murfin looked puzzled.

‘The National Crime and Operations Faculty,’ Cooper told him quietly.

‘That must be at Bramshill – Acronym City.’

‘Yes.’

‘If Mr Kessen puts in a request, their regional officer will provide us with assistance. In fact, the NCOF can turn out a full team. Their own SIO, psychologist, forensic scientist, pathologist –’

‘With respect, sir, we don’t need all that.’

Hitchens looked at Cooper and smiled. ‘That’s what I think, too. But let’s prove that we don’t need it, shall we?’

‘I don’t think it will be much use to us, sir,’ said Cooper as he followed the DI into the house, ‘but I’ve asked for footage from the Matlock Bath webcam for Saturday afternoon. They were very helpful. They’re sending me a QuickTime movie file.’

‘OK, Ben. Well done. We have to try everything.’

DCI Kessen was sitting in an armchair in the sitting room of Bain House, looking thoughtfully at the white and grey walls.

‘How do you think the victim would have spent her time, all alone in this house?’