Archer scans the room and sees Hamilton’s mobile phone on the dresser. Quinn sees it too and bags it into an evidence bag.

‘Hamilton woke and saw the killer standing at the foot of the bed, holding his phone. He got scared and tried to run and wasn’t strong enough to overpower his assailant.’

‘Hamilton was unfit and judging by the empty cans in the living room he was drunk too.’

Archer studies the scene. ‘It seems our killer is the sensitive type who doesn’t like criticism,’ she says.

‘Hamilton went for the jugular and has paid the price. He’d made quite a few enemies in his day. To be honest, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.’

There is no sign of a break-in from any of the windows, although Archer notices one window is slightly open. Peering through it, she sees it leads to a fire escape which is a rusting, unsafe construction on the verge of collapse.

‘I’d say that was his entry and exit point,’ says Quinn.

Below is a dark back alley. The perfect place to not be seen.

‘Yeah. It would seem so.’

‘The landlord is waiting next door in the wondrous meat emporium that is AbraKEBABra.’

The SOCOs arrive. As Quinn briefs them, Archer leaves the flat to talk to the landlord. She removes her forensic suit and folds it into the boot of the car. Through the shop window she can see the landlord, a rotund man with a grave expression, sitting with a female officer.

Archer enters the shop, which has an unpleasant combination of smells that include old meat, onions, garlic and domestic bleach.

‘Mr Bahadir, I’m Detective Inspector Grace Archer.’

‘Hello.’

She sits on the white plastic chair next to him.

‘Did you know Mr Hamilton well?’

Bahadir shrugs. ‘We were not friends. I was his landlord for four years now. He was my tenant. We were polite to each other. Never arguing.’

‘When did you last see Mr Hamilton?’

‘Yesterday around four o’clock. He was home early from his job. He’s a reporter, you know.’

‘I do. Did he seem stressed or upset?’

‘No more than usual.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘He always seem unhappy, you know?’ Bahadir waves his hand in the air. ‘It’s like sun never shine for him.’

‘Did you talk to him yesterday?’

‘I try but he no want to speak. He doesn’t pay his rent on time, so when he see me, he hurry upstairs. Like yesterday.’

The kebab shop front door opens and Quinn steps inside.

‘Has anyone visited him yesterday or recently?’

‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘Have you seen anyone hang around outside or watching the flat?’

‘I saw no one. He never have visitors. One night he come home drunk and I hear him talk to Yusuf.’

‘Who is Yusuf?’