Brian Casper surveyed the crime scene looking out for anything that was out of place, something that DI Blake constantly reminded everybody to do. The scene itself was cramped and murky, not a place that he would regard as a livable environment. The shelves were cluttered and dusty, full of objects that had no real purpose. The body was laid in the middle, the poor sod's palms were open and were turned towards the mould-filled ceiling, his long hair was matted and greasy. His eyes were glazed over and his arms were open, he reminded Brian of the crucifix that his nan had given him for his sixteenth birthday.

The bloke, Austin Hughes, had died of multiple stab wounds to the chest. Seven, Brian had counted them.

Unlucky bugger.

"Right," DCI Hunt said behind him. "What 'ave we got?"

"A dead bloke?" Brain replied with, turning to face his superior officer.

"Not any sort o' dead bloke, Shorty." Carly chimed in. "A dead bloke on our patch." DI Blake nodded besides her, going along with her jokes as usual.

"Yep," He agreed. "He's defiantly dead and he's defiantly on our patch."

PC Hale interrupted before Hunt could go on another of his rants, acting as the peacemaker again. "Austin Haghes, Guv. Forensics haven't got time of death yet but we've asked around and he hadn't been seen by any of the other residents in at least two days." Brendan looked cautiously up at Hunt, seeking approval. He got a swift nod and an impatient instruction.

"Well then I'll need you to-"

"Guv, shut up." Carly held up a finger, everybody turned. She was staring past the dead body, past all the layers of grime, she had her eyes fixed on a colourful guitar that was stored away in the corner. "That's..." She moved closer to it and picked it up, "That's an Ibenez bloody Destroyer!"

"And for those of us that speak English?" Hunt took a step closer to her, his tone desert dry.

"This is a brand guitar." She said bluntly, her eyes traveling up and down the instrument. "S'expensive, Guv!"

"So, claim it as evidence and sell it on later while we solve a bloody murder!" Hunt snapped as he turned his back on her to address the rest of the team.

"No, Guv you don't get it! There's no way that a bloke who lives in a place like this could afford a guitar like this! It must 'ave been a gift or summet."

DI Blake spoke up, keen to add to the debate. "He could of gotten some extra cash from somewhere."

"Shorty!" Carly barked at Brian. "If you had a spout 'o' fortune what would you spend it on?"

"...A house cleaner? Shampoo? New clothes?"

"Exactly!" She put the guitar down carefully. "Either this bloke 'as got a mate that's rollin' in it or this was planted on 'im."

Hunt clapped his hands, regaining the team's focus, "Hale, Casper! I want you to ask this bloke's neighbors about 'is mates. Blakey, can you stay with the forensic twats and look over evidence?"

"Sure, Guv."

"'n' Carls?"

"Aye?"

"I've got a job for yer."

Gene swung his car around yet another corner and DS Brown had to grab hold of her seat to stop herself from crashing into her door. His midnight black Mercedes was certainly more inconspicuous than the Quattro but it didn't have that raw power that his old motor seemed to yield without even trying. He looked over at Carly, who was sitting in a comfortable position, her head peering out of the open window.

He missed the complaining.

"One of my exes used to drive like you." She told him, her head still lolling from the side of the car.

"And that has any relevance, why?"

"You don't care about other people's opinions, Guv."

"And?"

"'n' 'm not finished talking, be quiet! So, we've established that you don't give a shit, yet you seem to be interested in whatever 'm doing because you keep shooting glances towards me. Now, we both know that DI Blake 'ates your driving 'n' I'm guessing that your last DI's didn't either."

"'Ow could yer know that?"

"Surveillance."

"What?"

"'n' evidence. They seem to be important to you, yet you kick down doors and beat up bastards. You have an old fashioned view of policing but these practises are fair restrained, Guv."

"Bloody nora and 'ere's me thinkin' you were a straight forward lass. Did ya swallow a textbook this mornin'?"

"So 'm guessing that you've picked these up off other people, your DI's?"

"Yeh...Yeh I did."

DCI Keats stood by the desk of DI Gary Blake, drinking in the bitter memories that clung to the varnished wood.

'Soon, I'll have them all soon...'