Erika and McGorry stamped their feet in the porch and brushed the snow off their coats. Then they were shown through to a warm, cosy kitchen. Elspeth fussed over Joseph like he was a small child, guiding him to one of the chairs at a long wooden table. McGorry moved to stand close to a blazing fire in the corner. The room was decorated like a country farmhouse kitchen, with a Welsh dresser, and a large green Aga from which a delicious smell of turkey was filling the room.

‘There’s a welt coming up already!’ cried Elspeth, tilting Joseph’s head to one side. He kept hold of his camera, and scowled at Erika and McGorry.

‘Do take a seat, officers,’ said the man, pulling out more chairs at the table.

‘Can I see the certificate for your firearm,’ said Erika, ignoring the chair.

‘Certainly,’ he said, leaning the shotgun by the fireplace and moving to a drawer in the Welsh dresser.

‘It’s a legal firearm,’ insisted Elspeth, helping Joseph out of his wet coat and draping a towel around his shoulders. Erika noted he didn’t want to let go of the camera, even when she was trying to get his arms out of the coat.

‘What’s your full name?’

‘Family name is Pitkin. I’m David, this is Elspeth and Joseph. I take it you weren’t expecting to be on duty today?’ he said, looking up from rummaging in the drawer. He indicated Erika’s soaked, misshapen shoes.

‘No.’

‘Were you headed anywhere nice?’

Erika realised she still had to tell Marsh she wouldn’t be coming for lunch. She ignored him and pushed the thought to the back of her head.

‘What do you do for a living?’

‘I’m a horologist,’ he said, tapping the magnifying lens strapped to his head by a leather band. ‘I repair clocks and watches, although, to be honest, it’s more of a hobby since I retired from the bar. Ah, here we are,’ he said, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

‘You were a barrister?’ Erika said, her heart sinking.

‘Yes. Thirty years.’

Erika took the licence and scanned the details.

‘It’s Elspeth’s gun. I have my own. We like to shoot. It’s a hobby, of course.’

‘That seems in order,’ said Erika, passing the licence back to him. ‘But if it’s a hobby, why was the gun so easily to hand?’

Elspeth looked up from peering at Joseph’s neck. ‘I have it in a locked cabinet in the back office! I saw you in the garden, creeping about. This isn’t the nice area it used to be. There’s drugs, and burglaries almost every other day… Look what you did to him! He’s going to have a nasty bruise.’

‘I’ll also remind you, DCI Foster, of the law in Britain regarding self-defence, based on the principles of reasonable force being used?’ said David.

‘Does she brandish a double-barrelled shotgun, in broad daylight, to anyone she finds in the garden? Seems a bit excessive,’ said Erika.

‘Excuse me, I’m not going to be called “she” in my own house,’ snapped Elspeth. ‘I was going to offer you a piece of my coffee and walnut cake, to show no hard feelings, but I’m not going to now.’

McGorry turned away, suppressing a grin, but Erika didn’t find the situation funny. What she wanted to do was to get hold of the camera Joseph was still clutching tightly, and return to the crime scene.

‘A court will usually take into account the fact that being threatened in or at one’s home is a frightening situation,’ said David. ‘The spirit of the law being that someone should have the right to defend themselves, their possessions, and those they are responsible for…’

‘At no point was your son’s or your wife’s life in danger,’ interrupted McGorry.

‘Really? What’s your name, young man?’

‘John McGorry, Detective Constable.’

‘Detective Constable John McGorry, why were you attempting an illegal chokehold on my son?’

‘I wasn’t…’

‘Please don’t lie. You were using Joseph’s camera strap to restrain him about the neck. It’s illegal to use chokeholds on suspects or members of the public. In years gone by, the police were trained in chokeholds, but I would think you’re a little young and inexperienced…’

‘I was merely…’ started McGorry, his cheeks flushing with annoyance. Erika shot him a look to stay quiet.

‘And your superior officer should know this too,’ added David.

‘I do know this,’ said Erika. ‘I can also tell you that if a police officer does use a choke hold, the officer may be able to present a justification for the use of force based on the circumstances. And based on the fact your son was attempting to suffocate my officer, by pushing his face into the snow, a choke hold in self-defence could be considered reasonable or necessary. Check online, this was detailed in a recent freedom of information act to West Mercia police.’

David tried, but failed to hide his annoyance.

‘This still doesn’t explain why you were pursuing my son?’

‘Your son was trespassing at a crime scene.’

‘Which isn’t a criminal offence,’ said David.

‘He was taking photos of the crime scene…’

‘Again, not a criminal offence.’

Erika paused and gave him a thin smile.

‘He was evading a police officer.’

‘Yes, and now we are all here and he will cooperate, within reason.’

‘Your son may have information on his camera which could help our investigation,’ said Erika. She felt foolish for giving chase, and now she was having to defend herself and McGorry to this retired barrister who was threatening to get the better of her.

‘Where is the crime scene?’ asked David.

‘I can’t comment on that.’

‘They’ve found a body, up on Coniston Road,’ said Joseph. He had a soft, cultured voice, almost speaking with received pronunciation.

‘You found a body?’ said Elspeth, who was still patting at his hair with the towel.

‘No, mother,’ he said, batting her away. ‘The police found the body.’

‘We’re not at liberty to speak about an ongoing murder case,’ said McGorry.

‘You believe it’s murder?’ said David.

‘Murder?’ said Elspeth.

‘It was Marissa Lewis; someone stabbed her to death on her doorstep,’ said Joseph.

‘That’s speculating…’ started Erika.

‘No. I was there when her body was discovered.’ Joseph pulled the camera into his lap protectively.

‘Did you call the police?’ asked Erika.

‘I didn’t have my phone.’

‘But you took photos of the crime scene, before the police arrived?’

‘You don’t have to answer that, Joseph. We bought him a new lens for his camera, as a Christmas gift.’ said David.

‘If anyone round here was going to come a cropper, it would be Marissa Lewis,’ said Elspeth, shaking her head.

‘My wife is also speculating,’ said David. ‘Which is legal, is it not?’ He was infuriatingly calm, and Erika took a deep breath.

‘Of course it’s legal, but could she – could you – explain?’

Elspeth draped the towel over the back of a free chair, crossed herself, and turned to Erika.

‘Marissa Lewis has – had – a certain reputation, if you get my drift. A promiscuous reputation. She worked as a stripper.’

‘You’ve seen her at work?’ asked McGorry.

‘Of course I haven’t seen her at work! None of us have!’ She glanced at David and Joseph, who shook their heads and looked at the floor. ‘My hairdresser told me.’

Erika’s eyes strayed to the loose, greasy grey hair hanging around Elspeth’s shoulders, and wondered exactly what a hairdresser did for her.

‘Who is your hairdresser?’

‘Marissa Lewis’s best friend, Sharon-Louise Braithwaite, is my hairdresser. At the Goldilocks Hair Studio by Crofton Park station. Marissa asked Sharon to put up a poster for one of her… performances, in the salon. It was a picture of her wearing nothing but stockings, suspenders and a bra!’ Elspeth shook her head at the memory. ‘I also heard from Sharon that Marissa had an affair with a married man who lived a few doors down, and she had several other blokes on the go.’

‘Do you have the name of the married man?’

‘Don Walpole. He has a wife, Jeanette. They’re still together, despite it all.’

Erika turned her focus back to Joseph.

‘So, you were in the tree opposite Marissa Lewis’s house early this morning, and you took photos? What did you take photos of?’

‘The sunrise,’ he said, with a smarmy smile.

‘You were up in the tree to capture the sunrise, but you remained in the tree after you saw there was a dead body in the garden opposite, and the road was closed off by police officers?’

‘I only saw the body when I heard Marissa’s mother scream.’

‘What time was this?’

‘I dunno.’

‘We opened our Christmas presents at ten to seven,’ said David. ‘We had breakfast, and Joseph left around seven-twenty. Sunrise today was at 8.05 a.m.’

‘It had just got light, so it was around that time when Marissa’s mum came out of their house,’ said Joseph. ‘I don’t wear a watch.’

‘Do you know why Marissa’s mother came to the front door?’

‘No.’

‘She probably had more bottles to put in the recycling bin; she’s a drinker,’ said Elspeth. ‘It’s not the nicest street.’

‘There’s been snow and thick cloud for the past few days. How would you expect to see the sun rise?’ asked McGorry.

‘If all photographers thought like that, they wouldn’t take any photos,’ said Joseph.

‘You’re a professional photographer?’

‘The word professional is rather redundant. Would you say you are a professional police officer? Did you act professionally when you pinned me down in a chokehold?’

‘Listen, you little sh…’ started McGorry, taking a step towards him. Erika held up her hand.

‘Joseph, stop wasting time, and answer our questions.’

‘He doesn’t have to answer any of your questions!’ cried Elspeth.

‘A young woman has been brutally attacked and murdered on her doorstep. She should be with her family this morning, but instead she’s lying in the snow with her throat hacked open. The bones are broken in her face, and she may or may not have been sexually assaulted,’ said Erika. ‘Joseph doesn’t have to answer any of my questions, but he could have information that helps our investigation.’

Joseph looked uncomfortable for the first time, and shifted in his seat.

‘Okay, I did watch stuff for a bit, then the police arrived really fast. Then they closed off the road. I didn’t know what to do. When I climbed up that tree, it wasn’t a crime scene, but by the time I stepped back down, it was.’

‘Did you photograph the body?’

‘No.’

‘Can I look through the photos on your camera?’

‘No. It’s a film camera,’ he said, holding it up. Erika moved over to him and saw that it was a vintage model, and had no digital screen. She went to take it, but before she could, Joseph flipped it over, opened the back and whipped out the roll of film. He pulled out the negative, and dumped it on the table.

‘There. No photos to process. All gone.’

Erika stared at him. He had an odd face, both vulnerable and hard. He stared at her, defiantly.

‘I think we’ve been more than cooperative, officers,’ said David. ‘Now if that is all, we’d like to get on with celebrating Christmas.’

---

Erika and McGorry left through the front door. It had stopped snowing and the road was busy with cars. When they turned and looked back, the house looked oddly out of place: a crumbling, sagging structure, sandwiched in a gap between the smart, upright row of terraces.

‘It’s like it’s been dropped from above,’ said McGorry.

Erika put her hands in her pockets and hunched down against the cold, as they started back down the alleyway towards Coniston Road.

‘I’m going to have to write all this up,’ she said.

‘What about the chokehold?’

‘They haven’t said they’re going to complain, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. You’re a bloody idiot, John. Why the hell did you let it go that far?’

‘He was lashing out, I was trying to… calm him down, stop being hit. It was instinctive. And you said all about that freedom of information request, that I can justify a choke hold.’

‘He could still complain, and cause problems. You need to be on the ball. You have to always think about the consequences of your actions.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Of course it’s bloody impossible, but that’s part of being a police officer. You can’t let yourself get into a situation where you are using unnecessary force.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said McGorry, his face flushing.

‘It’s okay. We live in a shitty time, John. Everyone takes offence at everything, and you’re presumed guilty, at all times. Be smart. Think. I’ll do my best to steer my report away from it…’

They were now back in the alleyway and level with the high wall leading back over to the Pitkins’s garden. Erika spied something behind the wheelie bin and stopped.

‘What?’ asked McGorry.

She crouched down, and using a small, clear plastic evidence bag from her pocket, she picked up a small, black plastic cylinder. She stood and held it to the light. She fiddled with the bag and managed to get the small lid of the plastic tube to come off inside the bag.

‘A camera film,’ she said, smiling at him.

‘Used?’

‘I hope so. I saw his camera before he yanked out the film. He’d only taken one photo on it.’

‘You think he used a whole film when he was up in the tree, then changed it?’ said McGorry hopefully.

‘We’ll know for sure when we get it developed, and the tube tested for prints,’ said Erika.