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even entering the room to keep contamination down to the minimum. She looked over to the white-suited forensic officers; then physically jumped as a hand was placed on her shoulder.
    ‘You must be DI Travis?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘I’m the SIO on this one: DCI Sheldon.’
    Sheldon had a soft Northern accent, blond hair thinning and swept back from a pleasant, pinkish face. He was wearing a cheap suit, white shirt and neat, unobtrusive tie. Anna gave a small smile and went to shake his hand but he turned away, gesturing to a big, square-shouldered officer.
    ‘This is DI Frank Brandon. Frank!’
    Brandon turned and walked over to be introduced. ‘Hi, how’s old Langton doing?’
    Anna flushed. ‘He’s got a long way to go, but he’s doing well.’
    ‘That’s good. I’ve heard he’ll more than likely be invalided, out but knowing him–well, not personally, but he’s got a hell of a reputation–he won’t like it.’
    Before Anna could reply, DS Harry Blunt called out from the kitchen; they all turned to look down the hallway.
    Blunt was short and stocky, with a reddish crew cut and flushed cheeks.
    ‘Getting a lot of prints; looks like the bastard washed up in here and made himself a sandwich. The knife found by her body may come from a set on the kitchen counter.’
    ‘This is Anna Travis,’ Sheldon said, indicating Anna.
    She got a cool nod from Blunt, as he turned his attention back towards the kitchen and the forensic team working dusting for prints.
    Sheldon pursed his lips and then looked at his wristwatch. ‘Right, may as well get back to the station. Did you come in your own car?’ he asked Anna.
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Okay, see you back there then.’ He walked down the hall to the open front door.
    ‘Would it be all right if I just stayed on for a while, to get the layout?’ Anna asked Blunt.
    The DS shrugged his shoulders and edged past her. He obviously suited his name: she felt as if he had little or no time to waste on small talk.
    ‘You know where the station is?’ This was Brandon; Anna said that she had checked it out before she arrived.
    ‘Good–and mind if I give you a word of advice? The Gov is a stickler for time, so if he’s going to give a briefing, I wouldn’t be too long. We’ve all been here since early this morning.’
    ‘Who’s looking after her daughter?’ Anna asked.
    Brandon said she was with grandparents; then, like Sheldon, he walked off, leaving her standing by the kitchen door.
     
    The incident room was silent. Anna was directed over to the Detective Inspectors’ desks, which were in a small corner; due to the limited size of the station, they did not have their own offices. The incident board had already been set up; the victim’s name and address were printed up, with little else. Anna could see Sheldon talking to Brandon in his office through the open blinds. Therewere three female and two male officers standing by a tea urn. None made any reaction to Anna or bothered to introduce themselves, but all parted as Sheldon came out of his office and crossed to the board. He didn’t even need to ask for attention; everyone immediately returned to their desks and sat waiting.
    ‘Okay, victim’s name is Irene Phelps, works at the public library. She got divorced five years ago; ex-husband lives in Devon and is an estate agent. He’s been contacted and will be travelling up to see his daughter. She’s only twelve; very traumatized and staying with her grandparents. They live three streets away from the victim’s flat. Okay, Frank, over to you.’
    Sheldon nodded to Brandon, who flipped open his notebook. Brandon spoke rather loudly, unlike Sheldon. ‘Right, Gov. We’ve so far gathered that Irene always left work at three; this was to make sure she was home by the time her daughter returned from school. The route to her home was by tube from Brixton, one stop; from there, she could walk home. On this particular day, she left work as usual, but her daughter