‘We can count on your co-operation, then?’
In a voice otherwise purged of defiance he managed to say, ‘Bastards.’
12
‘She definitely broke her neck,’ Keith Halliwell reported on his phone from the mortuary.
‘We know that,’ Diamond said. ‘I saw for myself, but was that the cause of death?’
Halliwell took a moment for thought, a moment that didn’t yield much. ‘Must have been.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Are you kidding me, boss?’
‘She could have been dead already.’
This didn’t persuade Halliwell. ‘What – and somebody pushed her off the loading bridge? Difficult. How would he have got her up there?’
‘There are pulleys and lines for hoisting things.’
‘He’d need help.’
‘Possibly.’ Unknown to Halliwell, the word that had first sprung to Diamond’s mind was “definitely”. His confidence was shrinking. Now that he’d spoken, his theory did sound far-fetched, if not totally off the wall.
‘If she died by some other method it would have shown up in the post-mortem,’ Halliwell pointed out. ‘You mean a bullet through the head or a dagger in the heart? There are more subtle ways of misleading a pathologist, Keith.’
‘I was impressed by Dr Sealy. He said because of the position she was found in, she must have been falling backwards. Therefore she climbed over the rail and held onto it with both hands before letting go. Suicides often do it that way, not wanting to look down. He said that’s why she didn’t end up on the floor. She didn’t see the battens that broke her fall.’
‘Pretty conclusive, then?’ he said without pressing his doubts. ‘No other marks or injuries?’
‘None that he noticed, and he’s thorough. He did add that he’d wait for the lab test on the samples he’d sent. There was some suspicion she’d taken alcohol shortly before she died. Even I could smell it.’
‘Dutch courage.’
‘I reckon.’
‘Whisky? Gin?’
‘He calls it ethanol. Same thing.’
Diamond was unimpressed. ‘Typical bloody Sealy. Alcohol to you and me. Ethanol to him.’
‘He couldn’t tell what drink it was. You get the same sharp, sweet smell whether it was cheap beer or vintage bubbly. When you’re alive, alcohol metabolises, but after death it gets trapped in the blood.’
The science didn’t interest Diamond so much as the how, when and where. ‘And what did he say about the time of death?’
‘Not much more than he said before. Probably between eight and twenty-four hours before she was found.’
‘No use to us. But thanks, Keith. How’s the stomach?’
‘Mine?’
Diamond smiled at that. ‘I’m asking if you could manage a sandwich after the post-mortem.’
‘I don’t see why not.’
Which is why you always get the job, he thought. ‘If you fancy a bite to eat, John Leaman and I are about to call at the Garrick’s Head. There was a punch-up at the theatre this morning. Tell you about it then.’
He was trying to be realistic. The theory he’d flirted with had withered away. Dr Sealy would surely have picked up some indications of murder. Post-mortems rarely add much to what is already obvious. True, Sealy cared more about covering his back than giving pointers to the police, but he was good at his job, and Keith Halliwell was a sharp-eyed observer. An unexpected discovery had never been likely. The case was moving to a conclusion. All it wanted was confirmation that Denise took responsibility for the Clarion incident. If her powder box contained traces of caustic soda, the suicide would be hard to deny. Paul Gilbert should soon report on the lab result.
‘Do I need a drink!’ he said to Leaman.
They were greeted in the pub by the barmaid announcing, ‘Here’s your friend, Titus. I told you he’d be back.’
The dramaturge, Titus O’Driscoll, at a table by the fireplace, looked up from the book he was reading. ‘My cup overfloweth. Well, it would have, if he hadn’t arrived with someone else.’
Diamond, trying to be tolerant, raised a grin. ‘John Leaman works with me.’ He turned to the barmaid. ‘We’d each like a pint of your best.’
‘Are you off duty, then?’ Titus asked.
‘At this minute, yes. And how are you, Titus? Fully recovered, I hope.’
‘The head, yes,’ he said, ‘but the heart remains in intensive care. I’m not used to being in the arms of strange policemen.’
