A tent, protecting the victim, had already been secured in a corner, a few metres from the back entrance.

There was no garden here, just gravel and a line of bins against a fence. As soon as they’d emerged from the close, where metal treads had already been set out, the smell had hit them.

‘Why,’ Chrissy said, ‘does it always smell like fried chicken?’

Rhona didn’t agree entirely, although everyone picked up the scent slightly differently. It was certainly easier to recognize the smell than to describe it, because charred flesh simply smelt like nothing else. In fact, it could be so thick and powerful that it was almost a taste.

Those on the front line of fighting fires said you never really got the smell of burning flesh out of your nose entirely. No matter how long you lived.

Rhona was inclined to agree.

Aware that however strong the smell was out here, it would hit them like a wall when they entered the tent, Rhona checked with Chrissy that she was ready.

Chrissy secured her mask and indicated that she was.

Once inside, Rhona closed the flap. They would be pretty well undisturbed now, unless they chose otherwise. She could sense Chrissy’s concentration, knowing that first impressions of a scene were vital. Context was everything. Before them was the evidence of when and how the victim had died. It was up to them to find and secure that evidence.

The body was covered in part by a singed blanket, which had been thrown over the victim to try to douse the flames. According to Bill, the good Samaritan was an elderly man in the nearby ground-floor flat, who’d been watching the storm play out via his living-room window. He said he’d spied a woman on fire and went out with the blanket. He managed to put out the flames, but couldn’t save her.

The victim was lying on her right-hand side. Protruding from under the blanket was some singed hair and a portion of her legs and feet. She was barefoot and there was no sign of her shoes.

As Rhona became more accustomed to the smell of burnt flesh, she’d already picked up another scent.

Petrol.

Using an accelerant was a common aspect of self-immolation. Petrol was best, although surgical spirit might also be used. Folk sometimes poured the liquid over their head, which wasn’t pleasant because it burned the eyes. If this had been the case, the face and the front of the hair would be badly scorched.

Alternatively, they might pour it into their lap instead. In that case, the fire would be concentrated on the chest and stomach. Once lit, however, victims often changed their minds and tried to put it out. In such a scenario, the palms of the hands and underarms would be affected, but not the backs, which might mean they couldn’t retrieve fingerprints to help identify the victim.