Hailey felt a searing pain in her left hand and realised that the back of it had been sliced open by a piece of glass the size of a dinner plate.
But her own pain was all but forgotten as she stared down at the body, aware that the widening pool of blood around it was now lapping at the toes of her shoes.
Harvey saw that one piece of glass had torn away most of the flesh at the side of the dead man’s face. The skin had been sliced raggedly from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, exposing his teeth and gums.
It looked as if he was smiling.
Harvey lost his battle and vomited.
Hailey continued to scream.
Thirty-two
The air was heavy with cigarette smoke, and Detective Inspector James Talbot inhaled deeply as he walked back and forth, chewing on a handful of chocolate peanuts which he was taking from a wrinkled paper bag.
The other men in the room either watched him or sat glancing down at their notes.
Phillip Barclay opened a window close to him and tried to waft some of the smoke out.
Rafferty grinned and lit another cigarette.
Of the two other men present, one was also smoking, twisting his cigarette in his fingers, watching the ash drop into the plastic cup which had contained coffee. His companion, a younger man dressed in a black suit and white shirt which looked a size too small for him, was drawing circles on a piece of paper with his Biro.
Talbot finally stopped pacing and turned to the notice board behind him.
‘Craig Jeffrey,’ he began, tapping a black and white ten-by-eight of a smiling man. ‘Thirty-two years old, surveyor, engaged. Due to be married in three months’ time.’
‘Maybe that’s why he topped himself’ mumbled the man in the black suit.
The other men laughed.
Talbot smiled wanly.
‘They reckon it’s difficult to get a table at that bloody restaurant,’ the man next to Barclay offered. ‘Perhaps he was desperate.’
More laughter.
Detective Constable Colin Penhallow ground out his cigarette in the plastic cup.
‘Enough of the fucking cabaret’ Talbot said, chewing on another peanut. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Are we sure it was suicide?’ Rafferty asked.
Talbot looked at Barclay. ‘Phil’ he said and all eyes turned to the coroner.
Barclay cleared his throat. ‘The autopsy showed no trace of any substances, legal or illegal, in his blood. Further examination showed no reason to suspect that he was murdered. I think we can rule out foul play.’
Talbot shrugged.
‘What was he doing in that house in Hays Mews, anyway?’ Rafferty wanted to know.
‘He was doing a survey for a building society’ Talbot replied.
‘So, while he was inside, he decided to climb up onto the roof and chuck himself off’ Penhallow mused.
‘That’s what it looks like,’ Talbot added, chewing more peanuts.
‘No drink, no drugs. No reasons why he should have done it,’ Rafferty interjected. ‘Just like the other two.’
Talbot nodded.
‘Three suicides inside eight days’ he continued. ‘All professional men. A surveyor, an accountant and an architect. All with stable home lives, as far as we know, all well paid, settled. None of them had any reason that we know of for committing suicide. But they did.’
‘People kill themselves every day, Jim’ Penhallow offered. ‘What makes these three geezers so special?’
‘That’s what we need to find out’ Talbot told him.
‘Have the wives or girlfriends been any help?’ DC Stephen Longley asked, brushing at the sleeve of his black jacket.
Talbot shook his head.
‘They all gave statements: none of them reported noticing any changes in behaviour in any of the three men. They also weren’t aware that any of the men were under undue pressure. As far as they’re concerned, there’s no logical reason for the suicides.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Rafferty asked.
‘Guv, if you don’t mind me asking,’ said Penhallow, raising a hand. ‘Why are we investigating three suicides when we know that’s what they were? I mean, there isn’t a hint of foul play in any of them, is there?’ He looked at Barclay.
The coroner shook his head.
‘There’s something not quite right here’ Talbot said. ‘I want to know if there
were links, I want to know if they knew each other’
‘Parriam knew Hyde’ Rafferty offered. ‘I told you about that entry in his diary.’
‘And I told you that one entry didn’t make them close friends’ the DI reminded him. ‘But I agree with you, Bill, it’s a coincidence. It’s also a coincidence that all three were professional men. Men who may have moved in the same circles. Find out if they did.’
‘What’ll it prove, Jim?’ Penhallow enquired.
‘It might just tie up a few loose ends’ Talbot said.
‘What loose ends?’ Longley asked. ‘They topped themselves, no one knows why.
Sorry and all that, but tough. Where’s the investigation?’
‘Just check it out in your spare time, I’m not asking for a full-scale investigation. Indulge me, Steve,’ Talbot said. ‘I’m curious.’
He turned and looked at the photos of the three dead men.
‘What were you thinking?’ he murmured, his gaze travelling slowly over the three faces. The DI finally turned to face his men again. ‘OK, fellas, that’s it for now. I want reports in three days.’
The other men rose and headed for the door.
‘Phil, hang on a minute, will you?’ Talbot called to the coroner.
Barclay hesitated and closed the door as the last of the officers walked out.
‘You said the autopsies showed no trace of drugs, right?’ Talbot said.
Barclay nodded.
‘Could you have missed anything?’ the DI pondered.
‘If you’re questioning my abilities …’
The DI held up a hand.
‘I’m not questioning anything, Phil. I just wondered if there could be some kind of drug that might have been absorbed into the blood stream so fast that it didn’t show up on the autopsies.’
‘Taken voluntarily?’
Talbot didn’t answer.
‘You think someone might have made them commit suicide?’ Barclay offered.
‘Yeah, it’s crazy, I know. I think it’s called clutching at straws.’
The coroner leaned on the back of a chair and looked at Talbot.
‘If it wasn’t a drug, how about something else?
Hypnotism, something like that?’ Talbot persisted.
‘I doubt it, Jim, and, even if it was, even if someone did force them to kill themselves, you still have to find out why. What reason could there be for wanting those three men dead?’
The DI nodded slowly.
‘You’re right,’ he said, glancing at the black and white pictures again. ‘And if we find the why, we have to find the who. But just suppose it was possible.
Just suppose that someone wanted those three men dead.’ He pointed at the pictures. ‘It’s perfect. No suspect, no murder weapon. No clues.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be the cynical one.’
