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eaten a bacon and fried egg stottie.
    Brady watched him. He knew that the state the victim had been left in had gotten to Conrad as much as it had to him. But the difference was Brady had eight years on Conrad and a lifetime in the force working his way up from the bottom. And along the way he had dealt with every imaginable crime possible. This young murder victim was just another statistic. But for Conrad, an Oxbridge graduate fast-tracked through the system, brutal murder victims like this one were still a raw and disturbing experience.
    ‘Jack!’ a deep voice boomed suddenly from behind.
    Brady turned round and grinned lamely.
    ‘How are you doing?’ thundered Tom Harvey as he landed a large calloused hand on Brady’s shoulder.
    ‘Great,’ replied Brady.
    Harvey pulled out a chair and sat down with a deep sigh.
    Brady waited. Harvey wasn’t the kind of Detective Sergeant to waste time with small talk. He was a man in his mid-forties who had been in the force for as long as Brady could remember. There was a time when Brady and Harvey had shared the same rank, but then Brady had been promoted. They had spent too many nights discussing a case over a pint or two to let Brady’s promotion affect their friendship. Harvey was happy to admit that he was too steadfast and plodding to go higher than a DS and had added at the time that he couldn’t deal with the politics that came hand-in-hand with promotion. But then again, neither could Brady which was proving to be a problem.
    ‘I heard you were due back. But Christ! Talk about timing!’ Harvey said as he caught Brady’s eye. He rubbed his large hand over his clean-shaven jaw as he weighed Brady up. He noticed Conrad shoot him a disapproving look at his familiar tone with a senior officer, so for Conrad’s benefit he loudly added, ‘Sir.’
    Brady smiled at Harvey’s heavy-handedness at pretending he was something other than just plain old Jack Brady.
    ‘What the hell happened to you while I was away?’ Brady asked as he gestured towards Harvey’s dark charcoal suit and dark maroon matching shirt and tie.
    ‘Just lost a bit of weight, that’s all,’ answered Harvey. ‘It’s worked wonders for my personal life,’ he added with a wink.
    Brady couldn’t help but smile. There was a time when Harvey wouldn’t be seen in anything other than khaki chinos, an unbuttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tan brogues, but since Gates had taken over as DCI things had changed.
    ‘Dora!’ Harvey thundered warmly at the short barrelled woman wiping down the table next to them. ‘Be a pet and get me my usual!’
    ‘How many times do I have to tell you? Place your order up at the till. I can’t be running around all day after the likes of you,’ she answered in an irate, thick Geordie accent. Her large breasts heaved as she breathed out in exasperation.
    Harvey’s eyes sparkled as he playfully winked at her.
    Dora harrumphed, and shook her head in defeat before walking away.
    ‘Have you seen Jimmy yet?’ Harvey asked as he turned back to Brady.
    Brady sat upright.
    Harvey shot Conrad a look which told him that he wasn’t wanted.
    ‘I need a fresh coffee,’ Conrad said, taking the not too subtle hint.
    Harvey waited until Conrad had moved off before speaking.
    ‘He’s in a bad way.’
    ‘What the fuck’s going on, Tom?’
    Harvey leaned forward. ‘I don’t know why exactly but from what I heard he lost it for a few minutes at the crime scene. He was one of the first called out and … Fuck! Your guess is as good as mine,’ Harvey said as he shook his head. ‘Bloody took his coat off and put it over the victim’s body! I mean … fuck it! What the hell would possess him to do that?’
    Brady remained silent. It just didn’t sound like Matthews; he was one of the best DIs on the force and had in his time encountered worse murder scenes than this one. Brady knew that sometimes a grisly murder could send even the most hardened cops over the edge, but