Some initial murder-scene photographs had been stuck with magnets to the whiteboard at the front of the room. I was too far back to distinguish any detail, but I didn’t need photos – the vision was burned into my brain. At this moment, the SOCOs were down at the Leith, doing their thing, and the forensic experts from Environmental Science & Research were on their way from Christchurch. Courtesy of her student ID card, we knew the identity of our young victim, so it was game on.

This was the first murder investigation here since I’d been accepted for detective training and quit the bright lights of Mataura for the great metropolis of Dunedin. This said something about the serious-crime rate in the city, as I’d already been here for half a year.

I was one of those in-between creatures – not a detective, nor a constable; a hybrid adrift in this esteemed institution. I had just come out of my six-month trial and was officially a detective constable. This had all happened rather more quickly than expected – people could wait years before becoming a trainee detective – but the powers that be had smiled upon me and here I was. Others were not so thrilled about my promotion through the ranks. So right now I was wondering what sort of a role I’d get in this investigation – not only because I was a newbie, but also because the officer in charge of the investigation was Detective Inspector Greg Johns. I hadn’t exactly endeared myself to him during my Mataura days. It was probably when I told him he could go rot in hell that did it. Or was it when I informed him he was a hack with a paper degree who couldn’t solve a mystery if the answer was tattooed across his forehead? I’d also insulted his favourite poncy briefcase. That was most likely the clincher. The fact I’d solved the murder of Gaby Knowes didn’t seem to make a jot of difference to him. I always got the crap jobs.

The Saturday-morning buzz simmered down as DI Johns took centre stage for the day’s briefing. His body language told me he was entirely comfortable with – no, make that relishing his role as the focus of attention. Some people were just like that.