‘I dunno, that doesn’t feel right to me. Does it to you?’

‘Feel right!’ Joel couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘You were scolding me for asking for an opinion earlier. Now you want to talk about feelings!’

‘You’re right. I should know my place.’ Her stern exterior was further eroded – her smile now unmistakable.

‘I agree with you, I think we can rule her out. There’s a story here and we’re missing a lot of it. The weapon for a start. Someone took it with them, which means someone’s missing from the scene,’ Joel said, then turned to DS Rose: ‘Who found her and called it in?’

‘One of the occupant’s mates. Came up to get a tenner she was owed, found the door insecure and called us when she saw what was in here. Uniform took a statement but she was off her face apparently.’

‘And no one reported a gunshot?’ Joel said.

‘There are no other CADs, no.’

‘We all just walked that hall, even our footsteps were bouncing around out there. A gunshot would have had every flat calling it in.’

‘So, our killer found a way to make it quiet?’

‘A suppressor. It’s the only way.’

‘What about wrapping it in something?’ DS Rose looked to be actively searching the room for something that might back her up.

Joel looked at Sandra. ‘I went to a scene before, someone fired through a pillow. It was a right mess. The pillow pretty much exploded.’

‘It would. And it’s not much quieter either. That’s what happens when people believe what they see on the movies.’

‘A suppressor is a specialist piece of kit,’ Joel said.

‘So maybe your assassination theory’s right?’ DS Rose said.

‘Maybe,’ Joel said, then he noticed Sandra’s eyes lingering on him, the visible bits of her face bunched up like she was smiling again. ‘What?’

‘Nothing …’

‘You need to say something? Come on, we’re all friends now.’

She shrugged. ‘You came up in conversation at another job. Word is that you’re some TSG sergeant with barely a day detecting murders under your belt. Then you turn up here built like a rugby prop in a shirt a little too tight around your biceps and I was expecting an idiot.’

‘Normally I try not to disappoint,’ Joel said.

‘You’re not. Take that as you will.’

‘So, what happens now?’ Joel was keen to move the subject on. ‘I assume you have a busy afternoon ahead of you?’

‘I do. Ballistics are aware but no telling when they’ll actually get here. I can’t do much until they’re finished. So far all I’ve done is a quick search but I will need full swabs, pictures and fibre mapping, then—’