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The shakes rippled through Kirby’s hands as he stood outside the coffee shop. He felt the tremble move to his throat and he gulped. The dead woman had unnerved him in a way that even the deaths of two children in their last investigation hadn’t. Was it the fact that it brought back memories of the attack on his girlfriend, Amy? Possibly. Amy still had night terrors and was undergoing physio in an attempt to allow her to walk pain-free.

He had an urge to phone her, to see how her morning was progressing. Then he shrugged off his concern. Amy had started a new job the previous week in a solicitor’s office in town. Two mornings a week. It had brought some colour back to her cheeks without doing anything to mask the pain she suffered. He could read it in her eyes as if she had it inscribed there in actual words.

At least she was alive, unlike the woman lying on the damp ground inside the crime-scene tent. Gather all the CCTV from the businesses and the cinema. Find out who she is , the boss had commanded. That was what he’d do. He headed towards the tent.

Grainne Nixon looked up from her work when he ducked inside.

‘Get out, Kirby. You’re not even suited up.’

‘Shit. Sorry. Just checking if you have anything for me yet.’

‘Like what?’

‘A name?’

‘Wonder Woman isn’t mine, and I already told Inspector Parker that there’s no handbag, phone or ID scattered around.’

‘There’s no sign of a coat either.’

‘Gosh, I’d never have noticed that without your input, Sherlock.’

Kirby sighed. ‘I’m not being smart, I’m observing.’

‘You need to be suited and?—’

‘Any chance you can turn her over.’

‘Not until the pathologist arrives.’

‘Just a teeny bit.’

‘What for?’

‘She might have something in her jeans pockets. Her phone, maybe, or student ID.’ The victim looked young, but she wasn’t a teenager. ‘Something to give us a hint to her identity.’ He stared at Grainne, silently imploring her to give him a break.

‘Get Gerry for me and I’ll have a quick look. Okay?’

He rushed outside the tent and nabbed the SOCO who was recording the scene around where the body was located.

Once he had pushed Gerry into the tent, Kirby hunched over at the opening flap and watched as the two SOCOs carefully turned the victim onto her side. Grainne tapped the denim pockets, then glanced up at Kirby. Expectation surged through him. With long-handled stainless-steel tweezers, she eased out a slim card and held it up.

‘Bank card.’

Gerry snapped photos while Kirby held out an evidence bag and Grainne dropped it in.

‘Thanks,’ Kirby said.

He left the bag with her as he exited the tent. He had a name for the victim, but he didn’t feel any exhilaration. The poor woman was still dead.