Charlie tentatively parted the shrubbery, and they edged towards the wooded boundary. Max froze and grasped Charlie’s arm. ‘Look!’

They were looking down on a mound of freshly turned loose soil. A shallow grave?

‘Better make a few phone calls, Charlie-boy,’ said Max. ‘The boss first, and then the local lads. We seem to be slap bang in the middle of a crime scene.’

Carefully, they retraced their steps to the patio. While Max rang Jackman, Charlie pulled on his nitrile gloves and tested the patio door.

‘Bloody hell, it’s open!’

Slowly, he opened the door.

And gasped. ‘Oh shit! Blood everywhere!’

For a long moment, Charlie seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Then he closed the door again.

‘Clear the scene if you’re going to hurl,’ insisted Max. ‘Nothing worse for the SOCOs than coppers adding their puke to the carnage.’

Charlie heaved in a deep breath. ‘I’m okay. It’s the stink. I hate it.’

Max finished his call to Jackman then had a look for himself.

There was no doubt about it. This was where the attack had taken place. ‘Blimey! Our prof is going to have a field day with that blood spatter. Looks like an arterial bleed to me.’

He shut the door. ‘Jackman’s contacting Uniform and Forensics. We need to stay and tie up with them. So much for that weeding. Andrea Becker will never get around to it now.’

‘But Felix Becker will get his wish. He’ll never have to see his ex-wife again,’ said Charlie. ‘Someone’s seen to that for him.’

‘Unless he made sure of it himself.’

Charlie raised an eyebrow. ‘You reckon?’

‘Not really, but stranger things have happened.’

They returned to their car and leaned against it. ‘Hope the circus gets here soon,’ Charlie said, gazing up at the gathering clouds. ‘If we get a deluge, much of the evidence could be washed away. We need some awnings or tents, and fast by the look of it.’

‘Jackman has that in hand. He said it’s already pissing down back in Saltern.’ Max looked back along the little cul-de-sac. ‘Let’s see if the neighbours are in. I’d like to know when she was last seen.’

‘How about starting with him?’ Charlie indicated across the road to an elderly man who was making a big show of cleaning his car’s windscreen. ‘He’s been clocking us ever since we got here.’

Max strolled across the road and took out his warrant card. ‘Afternoon, sir. Detective Constable Max Cohen. Could you tell me when you last saw the lady who lives in the house opposite?’

‘Oh, well, er . . . must be about three or four days ago, I suppose.’ He looked at them with inquisitive, slightly piggy eyes. ‘Why? What’s she done?’

‘Nothing, sir,’ said Max lightly. Other than get herself butchered. ‘Just an inquiry. Could you say precisely when?’