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but he answered anyway. ‘Hello?’ The caller introduced themselves.
    ‘Oh right. Why are you calling from a different number?’ By the time the person on the other end had finished telling him, the reason was pretty obvious.

FIVE
    Considering she had been woken up early and had a strong suspicion the biggest case of her career was hurtling towards a dead end, Jessica knew she was in a mood her flatmate Caroline would describe as “particularly sweary”.
    The phone call wasn’t helping. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?’ she asked the man on the other end of the line, who was definitely going on her shit-list when she hung up. It was a fairly short list, consisting of the DCI, one of her ex-boyfriends and the pervy bloke who ran the chip shop at the bottom of her road.
    ‘My name is Garry Ashford,’ came the reply. ‘I work for the Manchester Morning Herald. I wanted to ask you about the body you found this morning.’
    Jessica knew the media hadn’t been given any information yet. Later on, they would be told a standard line about a body being found and tests being done. If the son had been informed, they might even be given the name. Next week would be when the media were brought in and asked to cooperate. They would get the details of the victim and asked to give out a phone number for members of the public to call if they thought they had information.
    Manning that line was definitely the worst job when you were a constable. Trying to pull out anything remotely useful from the mass of nonsense calls you had to wade through was a nightmare. Everything had to be followed up just in case that one piece of information you had deemed useless actually ended up being something vital. Someone would have to oversee the operation and Jessica thought it was a job that had DC Rowlands’ name all over it.
    ‘What body are you talking about?’ Jessica asked, wondering if straight-batting the caller would work.
    ‘Hang on, let me check. Er, somebody Christ or something… sorry, can’t read my own writing. Er, Yvonne, Yvonne Christensen.’
    Those words meant there would be two names finding their way on to Jessica’s shit-list. First, this journalist, second whoever leaked him the name. Everything released to the media by the police had to go through the Press Office They got decidedly annoyed if something they hadn’t approved ended up in the papers or on television. Working with the media was even part of the training nowadays and, worse than that, the DCI would be annoyed if he didn’t get his chance to go on television and make an appeal.
    ‘How did you get that name?’
    ‘You know I can’t tell you that. I’ve got to protect my sources and all that.’
    So he wasn’t just a know-it-all, he was a cocky sod too, thought Jessica. ‘Right, well look, I’m going to have to refer you to the Press Office. There’s no one in at the moment but I know there will be a statement going out later. If you phone their main number, somebody will come back to you in a bit.’ Jessica thought she was keeping her temper pretty well in check. The Press Office speech was something she had given to people in the past, usually when she was far more junior and didn’t know any information even if she wanted to give it out.
    ‘Yeah, I figured that but I thought they would probably only be giving out basic information later and thought I’d ask someone who might actually know something.’
    ‘Right… how did you get my number?’
    ‘Well, I know a guy at the phone company who can get numbers for me.’
    He was really getting on her nerves now. ‘I wonder if you could pass him on a message for me. Have you still got you pen handy?’ She didn’t wait for the caller to answer before continuing. ‘Tell whoever got you that number that they will be fired and possibly prosecuted. Can you spell “prosecuted” or does it have too many letters for you?’
    Even if he was telling the truth, Jessica was fully