‘We’re going to stink to high heaven after this one,’ Chrissy announced, knotting the black refuse bag. ‘Plus it looks like I won’t make my date tonight.’ She pulled a face.

‘Who’s the date with?’ Rhona said as the arc lights snapped on and the locus became startlingly bright.

‘Danny, jazz guitarist, of course,’ Chrissy told her. ‘We were planning a pizza, then back to his place to watch a film.’

‘To watch a film?’ Rhona repeated in disbelief.

‘Whatever.’ Chrissy shook her head. ‘It won’t be happening now, anyway.’

Rhona couldn’t dispute that, since the probability was they’d be here well into the night. Twelve-hour stints with a dead body were standard. They certainly wouldn’t be leaving before they were sure they’d collected all the forensic evidence they could, before the body was moved to the mortuary for the autopsy.

Context was everything, and now the arc lights were on, the crime scene could be viewed in detail.

From the bedding on the nearby sofa, it looked like McLaughlin may have been dossing here. The accumulated rubbish obviously had a longer time frame. The smell, too, indicated an extended period of illicit habitation and wasn’t just occasioned by a dead body in the early stages of decomposition.

During life, the core temperature of humans was normally maintained at around 37 degrees. From the moment of death, the mechanisms that maintained that temperature ceased. How quickly the body cooled was dependent on many factors including the temperature of the environment in which it lay.

It might have been spring, but in this room it was still winter. Plus it appeared the victim had been naked when he died. Hypostasis, the discoloration caused as the blood, no longer pumped round by the heart, sank to its lowest level, was fully developed. In normal circumstances this would have taken three to four hours. From the dark-purple pattern, McLaughlin had lain in this position from the moment of his death.

The eyes were cloudy, as the crystalline structure of the cornea became dehydrated. Rigor mortis was in the early stages, having started in the face, neck and jaw muscles.

Chrissy was bagging the abandoned clothes, which had no sign of blood on them. Further evidence that the victim had been naked when he’d met his death. She eventually voiced the inevitable question, ‘Why the hell was he naked? You wouldn’t get naked to go to sleep in here. It’s baltic. Which suggests he was undressed for sexual shenanigans.’

Chrissy’s variety of expressions for sex was expansive, but this was a new one even for Rhona. And much less colourful than usual.

At this moment in time, Rhona was studying the back of McLaughlin’s head, in particular at the neckline.

‘Take a look at this,’ she said, handing Chrissy the magnifying glass.

Chrissy obliged.

‘Yeuch. That’s saliva. Someone dribbled on him.’

Rhona smiled. ‘They did indeed. Probably during sexual shenanigans or as they slit his throat.’

She sampled the material and secured it in a container, handing it to Chrissy to mark up and store. Now she hunkered down to examine the smaller second pool of blood near the thighs. Having by now taped the back of the body, she was keen to examine the front.