‘What about the pretty girl? She need to take my details down?’

DS Rose responded by stopping directly in front of the woman. She looked her up and down before replying: ‘Hell no.’

Joel watched as DS Rose moved away. He was left to lock eyes with the woman who was now flushing from her chest, her eyes wide where her smile had tumbled away. Joel shrugged.

The whole of the second floor was taped off. Another officer in uniform moved away from the filthy window he had been leaning against to meet them on the corridor at the top of the stone steps. There was another log to sign, this one for the inner cordon, plus a whole new layer of clothes to wear. The officer gestured to where the forensic suits, gloves and overshoes were individually sealed in a box pushed against the wall.

Joel was the first ready and he stepped through the door of Flat 11. He paused on the threshold, looking ahead to get an idea of the layout. The front door opened on a long hall that led to the back of the flat, where he could see a side view of a sofa. The layout already looked familiar. In his previous role he had led a million search warrants, enough to know that blocks of flats were often built to a standard template. If he was right, the living room at the back would also run into a kitchen area while the doors coming off the hall to the left and right would be the bedroom and bathroom. His first impression was of a place that was run down but not untidy. He had hurriedly skimmed the CAD on the way up. This started with the typed notes from the initial answer of the 999 call but also included basic intelligence on any persons or places mentioned. The ‘CAD’ system, or Computer Aided Dispatch, doesn’t print in a clear or logical way and Joel never felt that the computer was much of an ‘aid’ at all. He had been able to pick out a few details, including that the scene was suspected to be the home address of a drug user. The threadbare carpet, scuffed walls and absence of anything remotely homely matched that lifestyle. People in the tightest grip of addiction could reach the point where they didn’t have enough personal belongings to make a place untidy.

There was movement at the end of the corridor. A white suit appeared with hood up and a mask covering a good portion of her face. He could still make out a middle-aged woman. Dark hair was just visible under her hood, pulled back to reveal a shine on her forehead. Her suit was different in colour from the one Joel was wearing and labelled ‘CSI’. She held a biro that jiggled as she noted something in her pocket book.