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marked his route up the hill to Douggie’s. God, he was thirsty. Freezing cold lager, drops of water beading the can, something with a bite to it, slipping down in long cold pulls. Christ, Douggie better have some dosh ‘cos he sure as hell couldn’t afford it.
     
    *****
     
    ‘Mrs Tulley?’
    She nodded. Concern clouding her eyes.
    ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Lewis and this is Detective Inspector Mayne; Greater Manchester Police, CID.’ They held up their identification cards. ‘Can we come in for a minute?’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘If we could talk inside.’
    She lead them into the lounge. A large, high-ceilinged room with a white Adam-style fireplace and a contemporary, uncluttered feel. Like Mrs Tulley, thought Janine, the same simplicity in the woman’s dress; her long-sleeved, scoop neck top and calf-length skirt, as in the room design.
    ‘Matthew Tulley is your husband?’
    ‘Matthew?’ A note of surprise in her voice. ‘Yes. What about him?’
    ‘I’ve some bad news, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Oh, God.’ Her face changed, fear flooding in. ‘What is it?’ Mrs Tulley whispered. ‘Has there been an accident?’
    Janine noted the woman’s assumption. ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Tulley,’ she paused, trying to be as gentle as she could with the terrible bombshell she held. ‘I’m very sorry to have to tell you that Matthew’s dead.’
    ‘No,’ Lesley Tulley covered her mouth with one hand and brought the other to join it. Rocked forward slightly. ‘No,’ she repeated and closed her eyes. She lifted her head a little to speak, ‘What happened?’
    ‘Please, Mrs Tulley, sit down.’
    She complied and Janine sat down too. Lesley Tulley was gasping, shaking her head. Eyes wide and pained. Janine put one hand on her shoulder, a fleeting touch, some human contact in the middle of the horror. Janine waited, gave her time. Lesley stared at Janine then looked at Richard and apparently failing to make sense of the situation let her gaze slip away.
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘We’re not sure at the moment but we’re treating his death as suspicious.’
    Lesley looked at her confused.
    ‘We believe someone else was involved.’
    ‘Someone hurt him?’
    ‘I’m sorry, I realise how difficult this must be.’
    ‘How...?’
    ‘We believe some sort of weapon was used.’
    Lesley shook her head, trying to wake up from the nightmare.
    ‘Is there someone you can call? Someone who can be with you?’
    ‘My sister, Emma.’
    ‘We’ll ring Emma in a minute. Have you other family close by?’
    ‘No one. Just Emma and me.’
    ‘We should notify Matthew’s family, his parents …’
    ‘They’re both dead. There isn’t anybody.’
    ‘Lesley,’ Janine spoke slowly, as gently as she could. ‘I’m afraid we will need a family member to identify him but if you don’t feel able to–’
    ‘I’ll do it.’ Tears started in her eyes. ‘I want to see him.’
    ‘It’s just a formality. We’re sure that it’s Matthew.’ Janine didn’t want to leave any false hope lingering. ‘I realise this is an awful, terrible shock, but I do need to ask you one or two questions? Can we get you a cup of tea?’
    Lesley Tulley nodded as if in a trance. Janine glanced at Richard, he went to make the tea.
    ‘Just tell me if you need to stop at any time,’ Janine said.
     
    *****
     
    ‘Yo, Dean.’
    ‘All right, Douggie.’
    The friends hugged, a swift strong embrace, then parted.
    ‘Come in.’
    In the kitchen at the end of the hail a lad sat at the table taking apart a car radio. Dean judged him to be sixteen or so.
    ‘This is my cousin,’ said Douggie, ‘Gary. It’s his dad’s house, he’s got a few round here. This is Dean what I told you about.’
    Gary grunted but continued to work away with the screwdriver.
    ‘So, how goes it?’ Douggie pulled out a chair, pulled Rizzla papers and a pack of cigarettes from his hip pocket. ‘What’s the story, Dean?’
    Dean remained standing. ‘Douggie, a word?’