“Yes,” said Joanna, thinking that it was a shame they didn’t have such luxuries in Ruby’s block. “But this one also has a camera here.” She pointed out the CCTV lens embedded in the ceiling near the entrance to Gregor’s flat. It was a covert-type camera, flush with the paintwork, but Jo had spotted it immediately. Thrupp paused to consider.

“And have you had a chance to view the footage from either?”

“The entrance system only records when it’s activated by the buzzer. The monitor is inside by the door, but there doesn’t seem to be anything recorded on this unit since last month. Either there haven’t been any visitors, or someone has deleted it.”

“And this one?” He pointed at the tiny lens.

“We don’t know where the monitor is for that one. It’s probably a phone app.”

Jo took two pairs of blue crime-scene shoe coverings from the packet she kept in her kit bag. After she’d handed some to Thrupp, she led the way into the apartment, where their feet left damp impressions in the carpeting as they walked through to the large living space. Terry, the caretaker, had recently turned the power back on; Jo used a gloved hand to switch on the lights as they approached the open bathroom door.

The bath had a ring of dried blood near the rim, and streaks of red drew the eye to the plughole. On the bathroom floor there was the crumpled duvet, wet and soaked in blood at one end, a wreath of pink surrounding a reddish-black patch where the man’s head had lain.

“The victim was in the tub when we broke the door down,” said Jo. “It was full of water. He was floating, his head resting at that end.” She pointed to the edge of the bath nearest the wall, where blood had pooled.

“Poor bastard. Unconscious and alone, in a bath full of water. Lucky he didn’t drown.”

“I don’t know how lucky he is, boss. The guy was not in good shape when the paramedics took him away.”

Thrupp turned to inspect the doorframe, where splinters stuck out at odd angles from where Atkinson had broken the lock. “Could it be self-inflicted? Attempted suicide?”

“Not unless he smashed his own skull in, sir.”

He gave her a sideways scowl. “Did you photograph the scene before you did anything to it?”

“Nope. We walked all over it, I’m afraid. Paramedics did too. Have you had any updates from the hospital?”

“The victim is still unconscious, last I heard. That was about an hour ago.”

“Not a murder inquiry then,” said Joanna.

“Not yet.” He looked her in the eye. “What are you hoping for, resources-wise?”

“We’ll need full forensics, a team of investigators—the works.”