‘I think it would be wise to consult her,’ Moya observed. ‘The London crew suggested you bring in a criminal psychologist. Anyway, back to the here and now. Just because I can’t give you exact dates of death doesn’t mean I’m completely useless. Come over here.’

She led him to the most recent body, the one they assumed was Una Dolan.

‘We think we’ve established cause of death and – bearing in mind that most serial killers repeat methods – it was probably the same M.O. for the rest of them. Look here.’

Moya sipped from her cup while poking at the neck of the cadaver with a gloved finger.

Tom crouched down to see what the diminutive pathologist was trying to show him. He didn’t have her medical eye. Nothing leapt out at him.

‘What am I looking at?’ he inquired, too long in the tooth to feign an expertise he didn’t have.

‘Even with the decay, you can see the discolouration of the skin at the neck,’ Moya replied. ‘And the trachea is crushed. See?’ She prodded at some moveable lump beneath the skin.

Tom recoiled.

He stood up.

‘He strangles them?’

‘Yep. Manually. Violently. Like this. Jesus, bend down again, we’re not all genetically modified giants.’

The inspector leaned forward and Moya pulled off her gloves and placed her hands around his neck, thumbs on his vocal cords. Up close, he smelled coffee and the bitter tang of cigarette smoke on her breath.

‘Her killer throttled her with so much force, he broke her windpipe,’ Moya explained. ‘She was probably unconscious at that stage, anyway. She would have fought for breath when he started and used up most of her oxygen struggling against him. The pain and burning in her lungs would have passed after a few seconds and she’d have felt light-headed. Then she’d have blacked out. But he’d have kept squeezing. If her eyes hadn’t been eaten out of their sockets, they’d be bulging right now. It’s a very nasty way to murder somebody. Very intimate. And it takes real strength. I couldn’t strangle you even if I was off my face on crack cocaine. It’s more likely my thumbs would break as you resisted. Of course, she may have already been unconscious when she was strangled, which would have made it easier.’

Moya released her grip and Tom, even though the pathologist’s fingers had been placed on his neck gently, immediately lifted a hand to caress it.

‘By the way,’ she said, one eyebrow raised. ‘Is that beard some form of birth control for you and your wife? You wouldn’t get near me with that. No shave, no sex.’

‘I had to do something to keep the other women away,’ he countered, dryly. ‘Can we tell if the victims were sexually assaulted?’