Victoria Naparstek has waited for me, sitting in silence in a police car, lost in her own thoughts. DCI Drury steps over the hoses and shakes water from the shoulders of his coat, pausing to study the house. The front two or three rooms have been completely gutted but the main structure is intact. Avoiding a fountain of spray, he finds the senior fire officer, who is uncoupling the harness and lifting his tank onto the back of a truck. The fire chief has thick sideburns that make him look like the circus ringmaster. He takes off his helmet and wipes soot from his forehead, smudging it into a dark stain beneath his fringe. “There’s a body in the upstairs bathroom. Young. Male. Tag on his ankle.” Drury grimaces as though acid reflux is scalding his esophagus. He swallows and turns away, striding back towards the police lines. Ignoring the spray, oblivious to it, he yells instructions to DS Casey.
