Kim realised that there were very few cases she worked that didn’t bring her back to Hollytree in some form or another.

Any concessions to spring disappeared as they drove on to the sprawling estate, as though nothing would dare to burgeon in this place.

Kim had visited many council estates where efforts had been made in the planning stages to inject some colour with occasional flower beds, borders or trees, patches of grass to soften the landscape.

Not Hollytree.

The view was harsh and functional, formed of concrete, tarmac and paving slabs. There were no front gardens, just identical maisonette blocks circling the thirteen-storey tower blocks at the centre.

Bryant parked next to the bins at the side of a maisonette block sporting a giant spray-painted penis.

As they got out of the car a hunched, hooded youth passed them, flicked a cigarette end on the ground close to Bryant’s feet and snorted derisively.

‘Original,’ Kim observed as the youth turned and spat to his left.

‘Bloody trilobites,’ Bryant said, shaking his head.

‘Huh?’ Kim asked.

‘Trilobites, otherwise known as Dudley Locust, inhabited the borough way before humans. Often compared to the woodlouse. Died out about 400 million years ago when the coal swamps were formed, though I reckon a few got left behind.’

As the kid turned and gave them the finger, Kim had no choice but to agree with her colleague.

‘Second one along,’ Bryant said, as they both swatted the air around their faces as a few bluebottles left the overflowing bins and headed straight for them.

They dodged a pushchair and two bikes to get to the target property. Loud music met their ears as they knocked the door.

Another door opened to the left and a young woman stepped out, already snarling.

‘If he answers the door tell him to turn that fucking racket down. I’ve got kids in ’ere,’ she roared.

Who can probably hold their own in the noise department, Kim thought, if their mother’s volume level was anything to go by. Proving her point, a piercing squeal travelled through the open door.

‘We’ll advise him,’ Bryant said, knocking again.

She folded her arms across a vest top.

‘You’ll need to knock harder than that. He’ll think it’s me and just ignore yer.’

Bryant thanked her and knocked again.

The woman shook her head and went back inside, slamming the door behind her.

‘Okay, let’s thunder it,’ Kim said, realising the neighbour was right.

They both knocked at the same time continuously. The music stopped, but they did not until the door opened.

The man before her was younger than she’d expected. In his mid-twenties, the tee shirt he wore displayed rippling muscles in his arms and shoulders with black hair tied back in a ponytail.

His battle-ready face creased in confusion. Kim guessed he was primed ready to give his neighbour a mouthful.

Bryant held up his identification.

He looked to his right. ‘I thought it was the biatch from next door,’ he said.

‘Mr Mancini?’ Kim asked.

He nodded as his frown deepened.

‘Angelo Mancini?’ she checked.

He shook his head. ‘Giovanni. It’s my dad you want. He’s in bed.’

Not asleep, Kim thought, with the volume of that music.

He turned and called his father from the bottom of the stairs.

Angelo appeared and headed down the stairs as Giovanni ushered them in. Suddenly all four of them were in the dark, cramped hallway.

‘Please come through,’ Angelo said, heading into a small lounge just past the kitchen. Kim detected a faint trace of accent in the older man but nothing in his son, which told her they’d lived in the UK for a long time.

As she followed him into the lounge Kim noted this was a man’s space only. The area was tidy and free of clutter and ornaments. She couldn’t count the burn circles on the coffee table caused by hot mugs being placed straight onto the wood. A car magazine and a fitness leaflet lay on the arms of two sofas both pointing at the television. The music centre sat on a glass table against the wall adjoining the neighbour’s property. A variety of remote controls took centre stage on a sideboard beside an incongruously placed pot plant with a busy pink flower.

Kim took a moment to appraise the two men who had sat on opposite sofas leaving herself and Bryant no choice but to sit beside either one of them. Looking at them both she could easily visualise what Giovanni might look like later in life. Both blessed with olive complexions and dark eyes beneath generous eyebrows, the similarities seemed to end there. Angelo’s dark hair was cut short with an unruly wave at the centre of his forehead. His son was a good foot taller with added muscle.

‘How may we help you?’ Mr Mancini senior asked.

‘We’re here about Doctor Gordon Cordell. We understand there was some kind of incident between the two of you.’

His face tightened but he shook his head. ‘It’s in the past, officer,’ he said. ‘The man is dead.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Kim said. ‘But we need to understand what happened. He reported you to the police?’

Younger Mancini had sat forward, his elbows on his knees. He awaited his father’s response.

Angelo nodded. ‘He did but it’s over now. It was a misunderstanding.’

Kim felt her frustration begin to grow.

‘But it’s not over, is it?’ she pushed. ‘We understand that the OMD, Vanessa Wilson, called off the police investigation, but you still have a case to answer internally.’

‘My dad is not a thief,’ Giovanni said, angrily.

Kim acknowledged his statement in defence of his father. It was to be expected.

‘Doctor Cordell accused you of stealing hospital equipment?’ she said, returning her attention to the older man.

Angelo nodded. ‘It will be all over when I have my meeting. I will clear it all away,’ he said, wringing his hands.

‘You seem very sure of yourself, Mr Mancini,’ she said.

‘Because they cannot find me guilty,’ he said, simply.

‘You mean because the only witness is dead?’

He shook his head. ‘No, because I didn’t do it.’

Kim paused. Either this man was stupid, naive or overconfident. Maybe he’d watched too many episodes of Law & Order and believed that his declaration of ‘I didn’t do it’ would suffice.

She could visit every prison in the UK and hear that same proclamation from ninety per cent of the population.

‘My colleagues know I didn’t do it,’ he said, nodding towards the sad excuse for a plant on the sideboard. ‘And have said they will speak up for me.’

Kim opened her mouth to explain that unless they were right there when it happened testaments to his good character would do him very little good indeed.

She was prevented from speaking as Giovanni reached to the side of the chair and pulled out a pair of long-lipped Reeboks.

‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll be late for work.’

‘That’s fine, we only need your father,’ she explained, turning back to Mancini senior.

‘Mr Mancini, where were you on Monday evening at around 6 p.m.?’ she asked.

‘Don’t answer, Dad,’ Giovanni said, standing up.

‘I have nothing to hide. I was here, watching TV,’ he answered.

‘And I was here with him,’ Giovanni added.

Kim wondered if there was any way they could prove or disprove that fact.

‘And why would you ask him that?’ Giovanni cried. ‘Look at the size of him to that fat bastard.’

Kim ignored the younger man. ‘Mr Mancini, we understand that you threatened Doctor Cordell. You told him you’d get him good. Is that correct?’

Giovanni moved towards his father. Bryant stood and blocked him.

‘Easy, son. Let your dad answer the question if he wants to.’

Angelo slowly began to nod his head.

‘I said it, but I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…’

His words trailed away as he decided not to clarify.

‘What did you mean?’ Kim asked, already forming an arrest warrant in her head.

‘Tell ’em, Dad,’ Giovanni said.

Angelo shook his head. ‘They cannot find me guilty if I didn’t do it,’ he repeated.

Kim briefly wondered if he meant theft or murder. Or both.

‘Why won’t you tell them?’ Giovanni said, holding his hands up to Bryant to signal he did not need to be held back.

‘The man is dead. His family…’

‘What about his family?’ Kim asked sharply. The man’s son was in hospital fighting for his life.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It helps no one.’

‘Why are you doing this, Dad?’ Giovanni raged. ‘He was a selfish, arrogant bastard who cared for no one but himself. He insulted you, humiliated you in front of everyone, reported you to the police, almost lost you your job, your reputation, and yet you refuse to tell them. I’m glad the bastard is dead after what—’

‘Look, both of you,’ Kim said sharply. ‘I’m gonna be honest. Doctor Cordell was brutally murdered by someone who was raging, and although he wasn’t a very personable kind of guy, I only have one person who issued him with a direct threat.’

She could see the fear in the old man’s eyes but he shook his head.

‘For fuck’s sake, Dad,’ Giovanni cried.

Kim stood and reached for her back pocket.

‘Okay, Mr Mancini, you leave me with no choice…’

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, looking to the hand he was expecting to hold cuffs.

Oldest trick in the book.

She sat back down.

He sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you what really happened.’