Khan stepped back and Lizzie stood up and took his place.
‘It was a small, sharp blade, very clean wounds. The path lab is having a really good look, but it seems someone tried to remove his testicles. It’s not clear yet whether this was pre- or post-mortem.’
A mumbled response from the audience was curtailed by Khan.
‘Thank you. That’ll do.’ He gestured to Sean to start the slideshow.
The image of the young man appeared on the screen, lying as Sean had seen him, curled up, head resting on the step.
‘We were at the scene at 05:30 hours,’ Lizzie said. ‘The way the blood had coagulated, and the general odour, suggests very early stage decay. Dr Huggins has put the time of death at between 21:30 and 23:00 hours. Next slide.’
Sean brought up a photograph of the bloody footprints with their little white flags, enlarged to show the landscape of the tread patterns.
‘Four main sets,’ Lizzie pointed to the screen. ‘They came and went in different directions, one from above, three different treads below. And … next slide please … a fifth set, much fainter, that came up when we dusted. These might be unrelated but they’re quite fresh and carry traces of soil from outside. Looks like this one may have come in and gone out again. Potentially a witness. Next slide, please. Sean, can you zoom in a bit?’
She said his name as if they were old friends.
‘That’s far enough.’
The image on the screen was surprising. The head of a large ant was staring at them. Someone laughed.
‘Lasius Niger, or the common black ant. He’s fresh, his head and thorax were squashed on the concrete in these fainter footprints. The other half of him will be in the space between the treads, possibly still attached to the shoe. It sounds a bit Cinderella, but if we can find out whose feet fit these muddy shoe prints, we may have a witness. The others will know they’re covered in blood and will probably have destroyed their clothes by now, but this one kept his feet out of the blood. He, or she, wears a size seven trainer, so could be a small male or a large female, and they came in and went out with soil on their feet, and possibly half an ant, but that’s all.’
Khan was drawing something on the whiteboard, a zigzag of steps, populated by stick people.
‘Recovering the weapon is a priority,’ Khan said. ‘So far, a local fingertip search has drawn a blank: playground, grass, bins, you name it. DS Simkins will draw up a grid of a wider area and assign officers to sections.’
He mentioned Mrs Armley and questioned her statement about hearing nothing.
‘She said she saw someone running, so it must have still been light. If it’s our vic, then that puts his arrival at the block at before 9 p.m. And if she saw him, did she see someone else that she’s not telling us about? We’ll see if we can have another chat with Mrs Armley, but she’s vulnerable, sounds like she may have agoraphobia, so we don’t bring her in unless we have to.’
DS Dawn Simkins was sitting on the front row making notes. She wore a permanent frown.
‘Meanwhile,’ Khan was saying, ‘we need as much manpower as we can afford going house-to-house in the tower block. Did anyone else see a young man running? Was anyone following him? Again, Dawn, can you draw up a list of blocks on the estate and assign officers. We’ve got Mohammad Asaf on the PNC with form for drugs offences, and he’s served a stint on the young offenders’ wing at Doncaster Prison. Out early on tag for good behaviour. He’s gone back to college recently, his mother says. So, Denton, I want you to go over to the college and ask some questions, then get yourself back up to the Chasebridge estate and join DS Simkins on the house-to-house inquiries.’
‘Do we have a motive?’ Rick Houghton spoke from the front row.
‘Too early to say,’ Khan said. ‘He served nine months of an eighteen-month stretch for possession with intent to supply, but we need some intelligence on what he’s been up to since he got out. He wasn’t carrying a weapon when we found him. His clothes are being tested for traces of narcotics, but there’s nothing visible.’
Rick nodded and jotted something down. At the back Carly Jayson had her hand up. Khan called her to speak.
‘There’s a young woman recently been released, sir. She killed a lad on the estate exactly ten years ago. Marilyn Nelson. She’s known as the Chasebridge Killer.’
‘Thank you. Worth checking. Anything else?’
A few shrugs but no one spoke.
‘When the tech guys have cracked the pin code on the Blackberry,’ Khan continued, ‘we should be able to find his contacts and track his last movements. By the way, no press release. I want media silence on this for as long as we can manage, please. I understand from DI Houghton that there might be a connection to a larger dealer, but there’s something else I want you to be aware of: in my opinion, the nature of the area we’re working in points to the possibility of a hate crime.’
Sean heard a ripple of muttering spread across the room. Khan paused, waiting for quiet.
‘We need to see people’s reactions when we talk to them directly, and when the time comes, I want the right kind of headline on this. OK. That’s all for now.’
The mumbling was audible as everyone got up from their seats. Sean heard ‘drug war’ and ‘Pakis’ before he looked over to Khan to check his reaction. The detective was stacking his papers, cracking them down hard on the table. Sean wished him well on the media silence. If his nan knew there had been a murder, then half of Doncaster knew by now.
‘Enjoying being back on home turf?’
Sean looked up, but District Commander Laine wasn’t looking at him.
‘Absolutely.’
Despite the scraping of chairs and general hum of voices in the room, Lizzie Morrison’s private school accent was unmistakable. Sean had been hoping to have a word with her but he’d have to wait in line.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Carly Jayson made her way through the departing officers towards the front. ‘Or are they valued at the upper end of the price range these days?’ She fingered the fabric on his cuff playfully, giving a nod to where Lizzie was sharing a joke with Laine.
‘Don’t touch what you can’t afford,’ Sean said and slapped her away gently.
‘Don’t be mean. And I was just thinking if I might quite fancy you with all that power, if I wasn’t a dyke.’
‘Funny. Look, I’ve got to go over to the college. Fancy coming along for the ride?’
‘The detective seems to have taken you under his wing. Are you sure he can spare you?’
‘He’s sent me on a mission.’
‘Go on then, Captain Scarlet, if it means I can get a lift back to the estate when we’re done. I’ve got to check in with DS Stalag Luft at ten-fifteen.’
‘Rick says she’s known as “The Rottweiler” back in Sheffield.’
‘Suits her,’ said Carly. ‘Come on; let’s see if we can find something zippy in the car pool.’
Lizzie was still deep in conversation with Laine and Sean didn’t like the way the Commander leant over her, as if he was hoping for a better view down her top.
‘Are you coming?’ Carly said.
He followed Carly out of the room and down the corridor, the words ‘Police Community Support Officer’ rippling in silver across the back of her jacket.
She was disappointed that the only car left in the yard was a Vauxhall Astra hatchback with luminous green and blue checks.
‘We’re not going to creep up on the baddies in this.’
‘That’s not the plan.’
‘Pity. Might be a laugh. Have you got your magnifying glass and your sleuth’s hat?’
‘Give it a rest,’ Sean said. ‘Be thankful we’ve got a vehicle, otherwise you’d be on the back of my moped.’
The huge glass walls of the college reflected a cloud-filled sky. Carly pulled up in the disabled bay by the front entrance.
‘Looks like a massive car showroom.’ She peered up at the building.
‘Don’t knock it,’ Sean said. ‘About time this town had something to be proud of.’