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Chris Skelton kept a bottle of Scotch in his office. He almost never drank any, but that bottle had been one of the first things he had bought when he made DCI. It had just seemed like the proper procedure at the time. That thought still could make him grin like a div, even though there was no one else left to get the joke.
No one at all.
Tonight, he was going to drink as much of that bottle as he could before passing out. Because today he had walked back up to the old Manchester nick for the first time in years, a transfer from London to take over as head of forensics. He had been lost in his own thoughts, only to be brought up short by the broken and bloody corpse laying on the ground. One of the by standers said that he had been a copper, that he had jumped off the roof.
Chris's day only got worse when they told him his name.