Jessica left Cole, who said he was going to have to phone his wife, and walked back to the Wilsons’ house, asking Rowlands to come outside.

‘Why did you dash off like that?’ he asked.

‘It was when Mrs Wilson said she couldn’t let herself into the victim’s house. When we were over there I remembered some keys hanging in the hallway but the front door was locked because we had to smash it down. I figured that, if her best friend didn’t have a key, then how did whoever killed her get in? The back door and windows are all locked too.’

‘So you reckon it was the husband then?’

Jessica let out a long ‘hmmm’ noise. ‘Maybe but that doesn’t make much sense either. Firstly, we don’t know if he has a key any longer but, even if he does, if you were going to kill your partner, you wouldn’t make it obvious, would you? If you knew you were one of a few people with a way in, you’d hide the fact that was how you’d done it. You could fake a burglary or something like that but it’s all so clean in there. It’s not like it’s one of those old-fashioned doors that just lock when you pull them shut, you actually have to try to secure it.’

‘Could she have let someone in?’

‘Possibly but how did they lock it when they were back out again given her key is in the hallway?’

‘Maybe whoever did it secured everything to get a few days’ head start?’

‘If they did then it’s not the husband. I phoned him a minute ago and asked if we could come pick him up. I didn’t tell him his wife was dead but he’s definitely around and gave me the address.’

She handed a piece of paper over to Rowlands then continued talking. ‘Can you take one of the liaison officers and tell him the news – then bring him to the station? Ask which university his son goes to because someone’s going to have to tell him too. We’re going to have to find out who has a key for that house.’

Rowlands took one of the marked cars as Jessica walked back towards the victim’s house to ask Cole what he wanted to do next. He was just ducking under the tape by the edge of the garden as she approached. ‘I was supposed to be taking the kids to the zoo today,’ he said.

‘I don’t know why criminals can’t just stick to office hours,’ Jessica replied with a grin.

‘I’ve been saying that for years; if you’re going to commit a crime, can you at least have the decency to do it between nine and five, preferably Monday to Friday.’

Humour was frequently dark in the station. Perhaps to an outsider it would seem as if they were uncaring towards victims and other people that came through the doors. If the general public knew some of the comments that were made about them behind their backs, there would be uproar. Really, it was just the way members of the force coped. At any given time you could find yourself dealing with the lowest types of human life committing horrendous acts on some of the most vulnerable people imaginable. You had to care but it was essential you had some kind of detachment too. It was the banter and dark jokes that made that possible and fuelled people to work together.

Jessica gave a small laugh. ‘Dave’s off to pick up the husband. Have they found anything inside?’

‘I don’t think so, you know how long it all takes.’

Jessica nodded but was struggling to get her head around everything. ‘The thing is, even if they find a sample from the husband or the son, it wouldn’t necessarily show anything because they both lived here until fairly recently. Unless the victim is a habitual deep cleaner, there is always going to be some trace of them in the house.’

‘It depends what they find, doesn’t it? Blood under nails or something like that would be a good lead.’

Jessica blew out through her teeth and shook her head slightly. ‘Maybe.’

She knew the forensic testing often gave them their best leads but sometimes it could throw up as many questions as answers. If the victim had scratched the attacker and there was a trace of them on her it would give the police a solid start but leads as concrete as that were rare. Just showing the husband had recently been in the house wouldn’t be enough and, after that, even if they did find blood or hair from someone else, they would still be hoping for a match on the National DNA Database.

Anyone who was arrested on suspicion of committing a crime had their mouth swabbed and details stored. If a person had never been in trouble, a sample taken from a crime scene could sit for years until paired with someone. The testing methods were great for ruling people out of an inquiry but you still had to do police work the old-fashioned way if you didn’t get a match.

‘No need to be so negative,’ Cole said with a smile and wink. ‘Usually it’s someone the victim knows.’

Jessica gave a small smile but it wasn’t sincere. ‘I know but you’d make it less obvious. There’s something not right here. Did you ask about any estimated time for results?’

‘No, the hairnet brigade get a bit snotty if you start pushing them. Things move slowly at the weekend anyway. If we’re lucky, we might get a formal identification plus a time and confirmed cause of death by Monday. I’ll phone the chief inspector so he knows what’s going on and he’ll put a call in to say this is a priority. It doesn’t stop them being under-staffed though.’

‘Aren’t we all?’

‘Either way, some of the forensics guys are going to have to come in on a Sunday to wade through it all.’

‘I’m glad I’m not making that phone call. Someone’s going to get an earful.’ Jessica paused briefly and then added: ‘Are we both going back to the station to talk to the husband?’

‘Yes, there’s not much more we can do here. Scene of Crime are doing their thing and officers are knocking on doors to ask if anyone saw or heard anything in the last few days.’

Jessica looked back down the street towards the Wilsons’ house. ‘There were lots of curtains twitching this morning but I doubt any of them were watching when it might have been some use.’

‘Always the way, isn’t it?’

Jessica never failed to be amazed by how many people apparently didn’t see anything when some kids were terrorising an old lady or some guy was beating his missus up.

‘Shall I meet you back at the station?’ she asked.

‘Yes, you head off and I’ll see you there.’

The journey to the main base at Longsight wasn’t a long one but the traffic had started to back up on the main roads as people woke up and realised that, for once, the sun was shining and they could actually go and do something with the day. It made a change from cowering from the rain in any case. Jessica often thought sunny days in the north seemed to bring out two types of people – those who hopped in the car and raced to the coast and those who went to the pub.

She parked at the front of the station and walked through to the canteen. Their base had been renovated relatively recently and its sandy brick colour on the outside was still visible, unlike a lot of the local stations where the dirt had long since taken hold. It was two floors high but also had a basement that housed the incident room, as well as a separate area for the cells. Many officers also worked down there who didn’t have set desks. The top floor was where the chief inspector’s office was, along with a lot of storage and some other administration areas.

On the ground floor the main door opened straight into the reception where the desk sergeant would handle anyone who had been arrested. Some would be processed and put in the cells, while others would either be bailed to reappear or occasionally just given an on-the-spot fine or a bit of a talking to. Also on the floor were many of the slightly more senior officers’ individual offices plus the canteen, the media area and the interview rooms.

The canteen didn’t have the greatest choice at the best of times but there was never any hot food available on a Saturday, so Jessica crouched in front of a vending machine before settling for a sandwich that seemed to have the least curled-up corners. She then made her way through to one of the station’s two interview rooms.