Detective Sergeant Rosie Barnes and Detective Constable Terri Wright were waiting for the lift to take them to the fifth floor, where their witness to murder waited.
“Bloody hell Terri, we would have got there quicker if we’d used the stairs.”
Rosie walked three steps left and three steps right, hands thrust deep in her trouser pockets. Her dark blonde ponytail swayed back and forth with the rhythm of her frustrated pacing. She was tall and athletic with an air of readiness radiating from her.
Terri, was much shorter than Rosie with a solid stature that engendered a feeling of common sense and down to earth reasoning. She knew that frustration equalled wasted energy, so she kept her eyes fixed on the floor indicator, silently urging the lift to arrive,
“Do you know, this lift is taking thirty-five seconds to get from one floor to the next?”
“That’s why we should have taken the stairs.”
Rosie could feel impatience surging up in her chest and threatening to get the better of her - and Terri sensed her friend and colleague’s anxiety was about to become verbal. Keeping her voice as natural and calm as possible she said,
“True, but we’d be huffing and puffing when we talked to our Mrs Burdock – add to that a sweaty dishevelled appearance and … not a good look, don’t you agree?”
Rosie smiled,
“There are times DC Wright, when you really get up my nose.”
“Anything to oblige Sarg. You know that I will always obey my superior officers don’t you?”
Rosie’s sarcastic reply was nipped in the bud as the click-clunk of the old-fashioned lift finally made an appearance. The ancient lift doors opened to reveal a metal concertina gate. Grabbing it with both hands, Rosie jerked it to one side,
“Blimey! The last time I saw one of these, was in an old Hitchcock film.”
They both stepped cautiously into the dark wood panelled interior.

When the lift finally juddered to a halt on the fifth floor, Rosie threw back the metal gate with a little too much force, wincing as the metal crashed against the wall. Pretending it wasn’t her; she stepped out onto the carpeted landing. The girls didn’t know what to expect, but the sight of a small barrel of an agitated woman slumped on the hallway floor, was par for the course - discovering a dead body often had that effect on people. The sudden noise of metal crashing on metal brought her out of her shocked state and she raised a quivering hand,
“Thank God someone’s arrived at last,” she gasped “I can’t believe it, I really can’t. Don’t make me go back in – please don’t make me.”
Rosie moved quickly to her side, crouched down, and put her arm around Mrs Burdock’s trembling shoulders,
“It’s okay Mrs Burdock there’s no need for you to go back in there.”
The salt and pepper curls of the woman bobbed in time with her three chins as they collided with her throat.
“My name’s Rosie Barnes, Detective Sergeant Barnes and this is my colleague Terri Wright. Now, DC Wright is going to stay with you while I go into the apartment, okay?”
Mrs Burdock nodded again, tears glistening in her eyes; glad someone had arrived to take control. Rosie continued,
“You said on the phone that you found a dead body in this apartment?”
“Yes love, its Arthur Kingsward,” she said. “It’s his apartment. He’s in the bedroom. There’s so much blood it made me sick, but it’s definitely him. Who could have done such a terrible thing?”
“I understand Mrs Burdock and we will find out who did this, now before I go inside I have to ask you, did you touch anything in the flat?”
“Couldn’t help it really, I’d just had my dinner.”
“Sorry?”
“Me and my husband always have fish and chips when I’m working – saves time. Came straight back up when I saw that …”
“I see, but can you remember touching anything?”
With a flash of memory coming back Mrs Burdock was unable to continue, and screwing up her face in disgust, she started to sob uncontrollably as she shook her head. Rosie glanced at Terri who knelt down next to Mrs Burdock. Snapping on a pair of disposable gloves, Rosie gently pushed open the front door to the apartment and cast an experienced eye over the main room in front of her.
Her nose detected the faint aroma of death. Not the stench of a long dead body, but still worthy of a dab of Vick – which she always carried for occasions such as this. She smeared it sparingly on her upper lip. With the air she breathed mentholated, she could concentrate on her job. To her left was a side table with a black marble ashtray containing a set of keys. Next to the table was a carefully placed black suede briefcase. The room was spacious and very masculine, with dark leather sofas, grey and cream walls and several chrome and glass coffee tables placed around the room. At the far end, displayed artfully on a granite counter was a large number of bottles, both wine and spirit, all reflected in a mirrored wall.
In the middle of the floor, slumped drunkenly on one side, lay an upright vacuum cleaner, together with a can of spray polish, several yellow dusters and what looked like the contents of Mrs Burdocks stomach. Rosie was able to trace Mrs Burdock’s movements from the faint pinkish footprints that led away from the phone and past the dumped lunch, gradually getting deeper in colour as they reached the bedroom. The door, where the footprints were the darkest red was half open and blood was seeping underneath across the white marble tiles of the living room.
Taking a deep breath, and carefully avoiding the bloody footprints, Rosie stepped into the bedroom. The door made a soft slurping noise as it slid across the pool of blood. Even this amount of carnage couldn’t prepare her for the scene that met her eyes. Her neck went rigid with shock. Expecting to see a corpse hadn’t prepared her nearly enough. Her mouth watered and her stomach churned. With a trembling hand, she reached inside her jacket to retrieve her mobile phone and pressed speed-dial number one,
“Sorry to spoil your day off, but I think you need to be in on this one from the

start. … No sir, it can’t wait.”