Photos immediately please.’ A faint blue glow came from two lines of grouting, and a semicircle roughly two inches across could be seen clearly near the back wall, furthest from the door.
‘Why does it glow blue?’ Ava asked.
‘The chemicals react with the iron in the blood’s haemoglobin. We’re on borrowed time though. It’s fading. That’s why we have the cameras ready to record areas of the floor where we need to pay special attention afterwards.’
Ava trod carefully in the dark, moving towards the semicircle that was the boldest of all the glowing sections of floor.
‘It’s the edge of a footprint,’ she said. ‘Just the back of the heel. Can we get an accurate foot size from this, do you think?’ she asked the lead scene examiner.
‘I’d say there’s enough definition there for that, and now we know where the blood is, we might be able to ascertain more with further testing. The fact that we’re seeing this much glow probably means the bleach wasn’t very strong.’
‘Any hope of getting DNA?’
‘Depends if we can find a sample unaffected by the bleach.’
‘All right,’ Ava said. ‘The victim’s name is probably Gene Oldman, the property owner. Could you double-check against other fingerprints and DNA in the property? I didn’t see any photo ID lying around.’
She made her way outside. In other areas of the city the presence of so many police officers would have triggered the build-up of an automatic crowd. Onlookers would be waiting for a body to be brought out on a stretcher. Speculation as to what nightmarish events had occurred would be circulating. But this was the heart of Wester Hailes. When the police arrived, doors were slammed and curtains were closed. No one stood out on the street. A loathing of authority overrode natural curiosity.
‘DI Graham,’ she said. He was in the throes of organising a nervous-looking bunch of uniformed officers. Conducting door-to-doors in that region of the city was about as much fun as a colonoscopy.
‘Ma’am,’ he said, face straight, no sign of what had happened the night before. He was professional and discreet, which made Ava feel worse rather than better about what she’d done.
‘I’d like to knock on the immediate neighbours’ doors myself to get a feel for what’s happening, but would you do the talking?’ Ava asked. Years of working undercover meant Graham had developed an easy tone which had the hardiest of potential witnesses opening up to him. In spite of her long, curly hair and unthreatening physique, her English accent courtesy of an expensive education insisted on by her parents rendered her something of an affront to some people, particularly in an area as deprived as Wester Hailes.
They knocked on the first door and waited. Not so much as one curtain twitched, yet there was a clear sense that the property was occupied. Ava motioned to a uniformed officer to check round the back. It took no more than two minutes before a young couple were being escorted around from their back garden.
‘They were just headed through their back gate, ma’am,’ the officer explained.
DI Graham took over. ‘Well, thanks for coming to chat. Won’t keep you long. You’ve probably noticed activity in your neighbour’s house.’ No response. ‘Were either of you in last night?’
‘We went to bed early,’ the man said, glancing sideways at the woman.
‘Did you? It’s really helpful that you were in your property. We have reason to believe there might have been a gunshot. Did you hear anything?’
‘Slept right through. Didn’t hear nothin’,’ the man declared.
‘Is your bedroom at the front or the back of the house?’ Graham asked.
‘The back,’ the man said. ‘So what?’
‘So that would have been above and right next door to the room where we think the gun was fired, likely around three a.m. Are you sure you didn’t wake up at all?’
They both shook their heads.
‘A window was broken, too. I’m guessing there’d have been quite a disturbance. Did you know your neighbour well?’
‘Not really,’ the man said.
‘So you knew him a bit then,’ Graham said. Ava had to give him credit. He was a thousand times more patient than her. ‘What was he like?’
‘He was a creep,’ the woman said. The man gave her a sharp look that Ava didn’t like.
‘How so?’ Graham asked.
She shrugged, suddenly finding the pavement of huge interest. Her partner took over. ‘You know what some blokes are like. Can’t keep their eyes off a woman’s tits when they’re talking to her. That’s why we never chatted to him much. Now we didn’t hear anything and we didn’t see anything, so are we free to go?’
Graham looked at Ava, who nodded. ‘Give your details to the uniformed officer behind you, then you can go. And if either of you should suddenly remember anything, get in touch, okay? We know not to use your names.’
‘Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,’ the man said, putting an arm around the woman and pulling her away.
It wasn’t a surprise. There were areas of the city where it was understood you just didn’t speak to the polis. Not if you didn’t want your windows smashed first and your face shortly thereafter. Life was tough. Just buying food and staying out of prison was hard enough for some people. You got a reputation as a rat and you’d be looking for somewhere new to live before you even smelled the petrol being poured through your letter box.
‘Let’s try the other side,’ Ava said.
The door opened before they’d knocked and a stout elderly lady stood, hands on hips, ready to do business.
‘Are you here about my disability scooter?’ she shouted.
‘I’m DI Graham and we were wondering if you know your neighbour, Gene Oldman?’
‘I reported it missing two months ago. Left it outside my front door. Do you know how many polis came to see me about that?’
‘I can certainly check up on what’s happening with that case when I get back to the station. Could I take your name?’
‘If you haven’t got my scooter, you can get off my doorstep. I’ve got nothing else to say to you.’ A bunch of kids who’d assembled behind Ava’s back began giggling. She left Graham to deal with the woman who clearly had a prepared script that she was going to stick to no matter what, and turned to the kids.
‘Live round here, do you?’ she asked the group. There were four of them. Three boys and one girl who was trying to make herself look tougher than the company she was keeping – shoulders back, chin stuck out. Necessary, Ava guessed, so she didn’t get ditched. Gender equality wasn’t a priority on Edinburgh’s backstreets.
‘Fuckin’ pig,’ the girl said. The boys laughed.
‘What do you lot know about the man who lives in there?’ She motioned
