‘Which reminds me – before I go, there’s a torch for you in the storage locker under my seat. I also went to the canteen. There’s a packet of sandwiches and a flask of coffee too.’

‘Very kind,’ he grunted. ‘But I prefer tea.’

‘Tough. We can’t have you falling asleep.’

‘I’m not bloody likely to out here.’

‘I dunno …’ They’d now waded through trash until reaching the crime-scene tape, where they halted. Lucy nodded at one of the old chairs the vagrants had been using. By the look of it, Peabody had set it up for himself a little closer to the pit, until the reek had overpowered him. ‘Looks like you were already getting comfy.’

He didn’t even dignify that with a response. ‘And what are you going to be doing all night while I’m suffocating in the stink of this place?’

‘You’re not going to be here all night,’ she said. ‘I’ve spoken to the duty officer. You’ve got uniform relief at three.’

‘Oh.’ He was genuinely and pleasantly surprised. ‘Okay, cheers.’

‘And to answer your question, I’ll probably be on the move till three as well. To start with, I’ve got to interview Sister Cassie, who told me she’d spend tonight in “Old Fred’s crib”. I think I know where that is.’

‘You really think there’s a connection?’ he said. ‘I mean, just because of a van?’

‘One part of me hopes there is, Malcolm. Because that would mean we’re closer to getting an answer. The other part of me hopes there isn’t.’

‘Why?’

Before she could reply, the vet emerged from the forensics tent. As Lucy’s light was already on, she turned her own torch off and removed her mask. She was a youngish woman with collar-length brown hair, rather pretty, though at present her face was set in a scowl.

‘That’s just about the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!’ Her accent was cut-glass, her tone almost accusing, as though the officers themselves were to blame. ‘Who on earth is responsible for a horror show like that?’

‘Trust me,’ Lucy said, ‘we’re as eager to find out as you are.’

‘Is this some kind of ritual, or something?’

‘Do you see anything to indicate that?’ Lucy asked.

‘I don’t know … all these animals have been brutally killed, and in various ways.’

‘So they weren’t killed by other dogs?’ Peabody asked.

The vet glanced disdainfully at him. ‘I’ve never heard of canines committing strangulation before, or cutting throats …’

‘What my colleague means is: could these animals have been badly injured in dog-fighting?’ Lucy cut in. ‘And maybe put to death afterwards?’