Despite this, seeing as she was there anyway, she asked to have a look.

The person in the white suit standing by the tent’s opening was a woman a few years older than Jessica. ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘I won’t touch anything. If the light’s okay, I won’t even go past the entrance.’

The relationship between the teams was awkward. Technically Jessica could walk in if she wanted but, if she contaminated a scene, it would be a very serious matter. That meant that CID and other officers, no matter how senior, often deferred to the wishes of the Scene of Crime team.

The woman eyed her up and then turned around, ducking slightly and looking back into the tent. Jessica often found that you were more likely to get what you wanted if you asked nicely in situations like this.

The person in the white suit stood back up and peered at Jessica. ‘All right, fine. But stay around here, okay?’ She indicated the tent’s entrance and Jessica nodded, stepping forwards as the flap was held up for her.

Inside a separate lamp had been set up to illuminate the body but the gentle sunlight was now coming through the thin sides of the tent in any case. Jessica could see all she needed to pretty easily. A young man’s body was slumped face-up on the pavement. His legs were straight out below him but one of his arms was bent towards his neck, the other limp by his side. He was wearing jeans and some sort of black sweatshirt. Even though the top was dark, Jessica could see an even murkier stain on the man’s chest, matching a circle of deep red spread out on the ground. There was an obvious gash in the middle of his neck where he had likely been stabbed and another hole was just about visible in his chest. In total there were two, possibly three, knife wounds and a very dead victim.

Jessica stepped backwards and thanked the woman for holding the flap up for her. ‘Have you found anything yet?’ she asked.

The woman shrugged and gave a small smile. ‘Bit hopeful, aren’t you?’

‘You never know.’

‘There was something under a couple of his fingernails on the arm you see raised; he might have grabbed his attacker. There were a couple of other odds and ends but it will take a few days. It should be easy to identify him though. His face is fairly clear and it’s not rained or anything to mess up the scene. We found this in his pocket too.’ She used a rubber-gloved hand to delve into a plastic container on the floor, pulling out two sealed plastic pockets. One had a small bag containing what looked like cannabis, the other had a canvas money-holder in it.

‘There’s ID in the wallet,’ the woman added. ‘Do you want the name?’

‘I know who it is.’ Jessica said. The woman clearly looked a bit confused, so Jessica continued. ‘I reckon ninety-five per cent of the Greater Manchester Police force would recognise that angelic face.’

It was fair to say Craig Millar was well known to the local police. Even though Jessica hadn’t had the pleasure of arresting him herself, he had a face most of the local officers would know straight away. Jessica didn’t know his exact age but was confident he was in his early twenties. Off the top of her head, she reckoned he had a criminal record for drugs possession, actual bodily harm, common assault and a drunk and disorderly or two. If she checked his full file, she would be fairly certain of finding more on there and probably a few police cautions or on-the-spot fines thrown in for good measure too.

And that was just what he had been caught doing.

His friends would no doubt have similar records and owe hundreds of pounds in unpaid fines to the courts. Once young people like Craig Millar got caught in the cycle of criminality, it seemed to continue until they ended up permanently in prison or, if they really annoyed the wrong people, dead on a pavement somewhere. She wondered who he could have upset. Maybe he was dealing drugs in an area he shouldn’t? Or back-chatting out of turn to someone a bit higher up the criminal scale than he was? Or perhaps it was a stupid drunken argument with a friend who wouldn’t remember much about it the next day?

Jessica found herself shaking her head as she walked back towards Cole. He clearly saw it in her face. ‘Recognise him then?’ he asked. His head was at a slightly sideways angle and she found his face difficult to read.

‘That Millar kid. You noticed him too then?’

‘I couldn’t remember his name but the face was familiar.’

‘What do you reckon? Whoever it was didn’t bother taking his wallet so it wasn’t just a mugging.’

‘Drugs? Fighting? Who knows? If you’re sure of the name we should probably get the address and find out if he lives with anyone before word gets around here anyway.’ Cole indicated behind him and Jessica could see faces at windows of the block of flats that backed onto the road, with other people passing by on the other side of the road trying to get a glimpse.

Jessica said she had confirmed the victim’s name with the officer who had the wallet. ‘Who called it in anyway?’ she added.

‘If you had twenty quid on you, who would you put it on?’

‘What makes you think I don’t have twenty quid on me?’

Cole smiled. ‘Reynolds reckons you still owe him a tenner and never bring money to work just so you don’t have to pay him back.’

DS Jason Reynolds was an officer Jessica shared an office with. She grinned back at the inspector and gave a small laugh. ‘It’s got to be a dog-walker who called us.’

‘Bingo.’

‘I reckon we need a new way of investigating things like this. In future, let’s just assume the bloke out walking his dog did it and work backwards from there; it’s the perfect alibi.’

Cole’s smile widened. ‘I’ll call in for the victim’s address. It will almost certainly be around here anyway.’

Cole got Craig Millar’s last-known address by phoning their Longsight base. It was a flat somewhere nearby but neither of them knew exactly where the place was and, from the records, they weren’t completely sure if the victim lived alone. According to their own files, there were other Millars associated with the address but unsurprisingly no one was on the electoral roll. Jessica knew that anything seeming slightly authoritative would be roundly shunned in this area and doubted there were too many accurate records of who lived with whom.

Jessica crossed the road and asked the two teenagers in school uniform for directions to the victim’s address. She didn’t give the exact flat number but asked where the block was. The pair pointed her in what she assumed was the right direction without much of a protest and she and Cole set off to find out who actually lived at Craig Millar’s address.

They crossed back over the road and cut through an alleyway that separated one set of flats from another. Jessica thought the whole area seemed fairly depressing, even with the sun now up and shining. The estate was a mix of red-brick two-storey blocks of flats and small houses. Most of the area was administered by a housing association, with signs all around bearing the organ isation’s logo and strict instructions that ‘Ball games are not permitted’. Jessica knew full well from various newspaper reports and word-of-mouth around the station that, even if the association got tough on ball games, they weren’t so bothered about low-level drug dealing and other misdemeanours as long as rent was paid on time.

Everything looked the same and the small scraps of land that hadn’t been built on had patchy, muddied grass, graffiti littering many fences and walls. They continued walking and Jessica noticed a run-down children’s play park on the opposite side of the road from them. She could see a pair of swings had been wrapped around the top of the frame they hung from and guessed that much of the rest of the equipment was unusable or vandalised.