---

Robyn was working through the information on Gregson’s mobile when her phone rang for the second time. It was the desk sergeant again.

‘DCI Flint asked me to pass this to you. DI Shearer’s not available and it’s urgent. There’s been an incident at Barton-under-Needwood. Victim’s a young woman. Don’t have any other details. Paramedics called it in. Head injuries.’

Robyn got everyone’s attention. ‘We’ve got another case to handle. We’ll need to split the team for the moment. Matt, stay on this, and Anna, see if you can trace Henry Gregson’s Kia before it headed to Cannock Chase. Keep me in the loop. David, Mitz – with me.’

---

Robyn gritted her teeth as they attempted to navigate the popular village of Barton-under-Needwood, populated by commuters working in nearby Lichfield, Tamworth and Burton-upon-Trent. Even with the siren blaring, it took several minutes to circumnavigate the lunchtime traffic and reach the terraced house situated in a side road, near the Tudor church of St James.

Robyn slipped on the obligatory crime scene paper suit behind the squad car and studied the front of the house, separated from the road by a foot of pavement and accessed by a paved driveway to the left. It was a small, brown-brick property, with a wooden door painted in duck-egg blue and windowsills to match. Window boxes filled with pale pink and purple pansies, damp and limp from the recent rain, had been recently tended and deadheaded. Slatted cream blinds hung halfway down sparkling windows, and on the window ledge was a black kitten, its head turning this way and that, attracted by all the outside activity. Robyn showed her ID to the PC standing at the entrance to the drive, and entered the property. The kitten watched her, its golden gaze following her as she stepped cautiously over the threshold.

The front door led directly into the kitchen that doubled as a dining room. Tessa Hall, in jogging bottoms and a fleece, was lying near the foot of a staircase that rose from the side of the room. The tiled floor was splattered with bright-red stains. Several tiny droplets of blood had splattered onto the kitchen cupboards and some even onto the white wooden banister behind her. Her head was a bloodied mess surrounded by a crimson halo. Several forensic officers were working silently in the kitchen, and the photographer was in the doorway separating the kitchen from a sitting room, checking through what he’d already captured. Connor Richards, already in situ, raised his hands helplessly when he saw Robyn.

‘Horrible,’ he said.

‘What are we dealing with here?’ asked Robyn.

‘Female in her twenties. Head injury. Might have been due to a nasty fall. Or more likely it was an attack. Harry McKenzie is on his way. He’ll be able to verify if it was deliberate.’

On cue, Harry McKenzie, the pathologist, entered, his medical case gripped tightly, brows furrowed. He didn’t greet them; instead, he nodded in their direction and heaved a sigh at the spectacle before him. A small, neat man in his fifties, with greying temples, pale face and delicate features, Harry had a gentle bedside manner. Robyn liked his methodical approach combined with the kindness that exuded from him.

He unpacked his case in silence and set about examining Tessa, gently checking her injuries. Robyn turned away from the sight of the woman and looked around the impossibly tidy kitchen. Tessa looked after her home. Porcelain jars marked coffee, tea and sugar stood beside a gleaming kettle and a mug bearing a picture of a cat in a bow tie. Other animal mugs were hanging from wooden pegs under kitchen units, and a magnificent display of flowers rested upon the table at the far end of the kitchen. Beside it stood a large card bearing a velvet red heart. A small beanbag cushion balanced on a kitchen chair was presumably for the cat. A litter tray and a blue food bowl bearing the name Schrödinger stood by the door. One of the forensic team had removed the kitten from the windowsill and it was now shut in a cage by the door, still fixated on Robyn. It meowed at her – a weak, lost cry – and a rush of sadness overcame Robyn, for both the house-proud young woman and her small companion.

Mitz joined them, notepad in hand.

‘Victim is Tessa Hall. Twenty-six years old. Single. She was a nurse and worked in Tamworth. The neighbours on either side are currently out at work. I’ve just spoken to the woman who found her, Mrs Frances Shields. She came around to drop off a copy of the local newsletter and heard the cat yowling. She thought it might have been injured, peered through the letter box, caught sight of Tessa lying on the floor, and called the emergency services. We’re getting a full statement from her now.’ He looked up from his pad.

‘Can you arrange for house-to-house enquiries?’

‘Sure.’ David glanced at the body of Tessa Hall and winced. ‘You want me to start now?’

‘As soon as we’ve finished here. I don’t want to get in the way of the forensic team.’ Robyn looked around the room. There didn’t appear to be any obvious signs of a struggle. Forensics would be able to ascertain if there had been one. Her eyes lit upon the iPhone still attached to Tessa’s arm and the running shoes on the floor. ‘It looks like she’d been getting ready to go out jogging. Maybe she surprised an intruder. This could be an attempted burglary that went wrong or a random attack. Connor, can I take that phone with me?’

‘Sure.’ Connor removed it to examine it and dust it for prints.

‘I’d say she’s been struck across the temple by a blunt weapon,’ said Harry McKenzie. ‘It’s a particularly fragile part of the skull. It’s almost certainly what killed her.’

Robyn examined the front door, checking for damage. ‘There’s no sign of forced entry so we can assume she opened her door to somebody. She might or might not have known her assailant. If she was about to leave, she probably wasn’t expecting a visitor, unless it was a running buddy.’

Her gaze was drawn to a black leather purse next to a handbag. She moved quickly towards it. ‘Connor, can you look at this, please?’

Connor’s eyebrows rose high as he leafed through the notes filling the purse. ‘You might rule out a burglary or robbery. There’s about £500 in it,’ he said.

‘That’s a fair amount of cash,’ said Robyn as she examined the kitchen top, looking for anything untoward. ‘Most people use cards these days to pay for stuff. I can’t think why she’d have that amount, unless somebody had given it to her – or paid her for something in cash.’ She moved towards the kitchen table and the window that looked out onto a six-foot hedge providing the house with privacy. It would be impossible for anybody to gain entry from that direction. She turned a full circle.

‘I can’t see any obvious damage or anything out of place in here.’

Mitz agreed. ‘It appears robbery can’t be the motive, not if the killer left all that money behind.’

Robyn glanced across at Tessa’s body. Harry was checking her core temperature to work out time of death.

‘Harry, what are your initial thoughts?’

‘I’d say death occurred about four, five hours ago. There’s little evidence of rigor, although there’s some recent stiffening of the neck muscles commensurate with the approximate time of death. Her core temperature hasn’t dropped a huge amount and indicates death was sometime this morning. Around six or seven.’

The kitten let out a plaintive yowl.

‘What’s happening to the cat?’ asked Robyn.

One of the forensic team spoke. ‘We’ve contacted the local cats’ home but they haven’t got anyone free to come and collect it yet.’

The kitten meowed again and pawed at the cage. Davies’ daughter, Amélie, who lived with her mother, Brigitte, was cat-crazy. Her grandmother, who was in France, owned a Siamese, and Amélie always talked at length about the animal after her visits there.

‘Schrödinger’s a weird name,’ said David, who’d been upstairs and was now standing by the door, quietly observing the proceedings.

A puff of air escaped Robyn’s nose in a light snort. ‘I’m assuming it’s after the Schrödinger cat experiment. Don’t ask. I don’t understand the concept. Look, if no one’s coming to collect that poor animal, I’m taking it with me. David, anything upstairs?’

‘No, guv. No sign of any tussle or attack.’

A lengthy sigh escaped Robyn’s lips. ‘Okay, it’s time to find a witness, collect some statements and leave this crime scene to the forensic chaps. Harry?’

‘There’s blunt force trauma to the temple and fractures to the right cheekbone. There’s a skull fracture to the back of the head that might have occurred when she fell, or from a direct blow to the head. I’m sure my examination will show the skull casing has been fractured here,’ he said, pointing to an area above her hairline. ‘It’s possible fragments might have made their way into the brain and caused haemorrhaging. I’ll confirm my findings later today.’

Robyn took another look about the home. Access to the French windows was impossible from the other side of the wall unless the killer had used a ladder, and there was no obvious damage to them. Whoever had attacked Tessa must have come through the front door. A wind-up toy mouse lay in Robyn’s path. She stepped over it and strode back into the kitchen. The space seemed impossibly small, filled, as it now was, with investigators in white suits.

‘David, I’d like you to remain behind to gather as many statements as possible from neighbours and begin questioning other locals in the area who might have seen or heard something unusual. Mitz, let’s see if we can find out more about Tessa Hall.’

Connor handed over an evidence bag containing the phone. ‘Nothing but her fingerprints on it. There’s an iPad in the other room. I’ll get it to you later today. Have to debrief the team on the other incident on Cannock Chase first.’

‘Of course. I’d almost forgotten about that.’

‘Somehow, I doubt that,’ said Connor.

‘Harry, can you get onto this immediately, please?’

‘Most definitely. You’ll get my full report as soon as possible.’

Robyn stood by the doorstep to remove her protective clothing, placed it in the bin and picked up the cage containing Schrödinger.

‘What are you going to do with the lucky black cat?’ asked Mitz as they climbed back into the squad car.

‘I have absolutely no idea,’ said Robyn, wondering why she’d acted on a whim. It was most unlike her. The vision of Amélie’s face drifted into her head. Maybe part of her did know.