‘To Whom It May Concern, I would like to say sorry to all the people who have suffered because of me. I am sorry for all the bad things I have done. I am ripent repentunt repentant.’
The note had been written in a large, looping print. The failed spellings had been scored through heavily as if written by a child. The writing was signed off with Celeste Warren’s inimitable signature, the flourish of which was punctuated with a kiss in the form of an ‘X’.
Maya placed the note carefully back on the table next to the empty champagne bottle and glass. ‘I’ll exhibit that and take it back with me,’ Maya informed Jack. ‘It can always go for chemical treatment to enhance fingerprints if need be.’
‘Surely there’s no need for that if it’s not suspicious though?’
‘I’ll collect it and if the boss is satisfied there’s nothing further to examine, then it can just be booked into property rather than go to the lab. It’s quite a succinct suicide note, isn’t it?’
‘They usually are,’ Jack said. ‘Usually a line of apology, occasionally a reason why and a final “I love you”. Goodbye cruel world, that kind of thing. A lot of people don’t even leave them. You have to consider the extreme frame of mind somebody’s going to be in before they take their own life. Sad really.’ He glanced around the rest of the room, no longer interested in the note, choosing instead to peruse a photograph album of Celeste back when she had been in her prime.
They made their way through to the kitchen where Jack discovered more signs that Celeste had been drinking. Maya photographed another empty champagne bottle and a crystal tumbler that smelt strongly of gin.
She then concentrated on scouring through the contents of a kitchen drawer which contained various bits of paperwork, including an address book and copies of a mobile phone contract and a warranty.
Maya compared Celeste’s handwriting and the signature with the kiss, to that from the suicide note. She was happy they were one and the same. She carefully took photographs so the comparison could be shown to the coroner.
‘Do you want to come and photograph this too, Maya?’ Jack called.
He had disappeared into the downstairs toilet, which was accessed from the utility room, just off the kitchen. He nodded towards the sink where the faint traces of lines of cocaine remained evident on the tiled surface. An empty, clear snap bag and rolled-up fifty-pound note lay next to the telltale lines.
‘Champagne, gin and charlie. She must’ve been smacked off her tits,’ Jack mused as Maya snapped away. ‘Shall we go and have a quick look upstairs and then we can go and see what state Madam’s in?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
As before, she led the way photographing their route through the house until they arrived in Celeste’s bedroom. The patio door was wide open, and Maya took a moment to savour the sweet-scented breeze that drifted across the room. The paper scene suit had become unbearably hot in the warm weather, and Maya could already feel herself begin to dehydrate.
‘Jesus, this is the archetypal tart’s boudoir if ever I’ve seen one.’ Jack surveyed the room taking in the animal print furnishings and the imposing circular bed.
‘Seen many, have you?’ Maya said with a smirk.
‘That’s for me to know and you to wonder,’ he replied with a raise of his eyebrows.
It was difficult to photograph the room without Maya capturing her own reflection in one of the many mirrors. When she had finally finished, she made her way out onto the roof terrace and took a few more pictures. Satisfied that she had recorded everything adequately, she looked over the edge of the wall and surveyed Celeste Warren’s broken body.
She was joined by Jack, who let out a low whistle at the distance between the roof and the body on the floor.
‘She will be known from hereon in as Humpty Dumpty,’ Maya quipped as she photographed the body from her advantage viewpoint.
‘She’ll not be causing any more trouble, that’s for sure,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll just have a quick scan round the bedroom while you finish up out here.’
Maya carefully scanned the wall and floor for scuff marks or anything similar. She noticed what appeared to be partial footwear marks on thick uPVC trunking that ran around the wall. The marks were consistent with Celeste having used this as a step-up to the top of the wall before she had jumped. The patio furniture did not appear disturbed, and like the rest of the house so far, there appeared to be nothing untoward. Certainly nothing that would indicate a struggle or foul play had taken place.
‘Hey, Maya, come and cop a load of this,’ Jack called. Taking one last look at Celeste’s body, Maya returned to the bedroom where Jack was stood staring into a walk-in wardrobe. The innocuous-looking space was filled with a huge array of sex toys and other paraphernalia. They had been displayed in a manner that resembled an exhibition.
‘Blimey.’ Maya let out a snort. ‘Humpty Dumpty liked a bit of rumpy-pumpy, didn’t she?’
‘She certainly did. Rumour has it she’s been rogered more times than the police radio.’
‘Well, God forbid a woman should be able to enjoy sex too. They’ll be giving us the vote next,’ Maya said dryly as Jack stepped back so she could include the wardrobe and its contents in her scene photographs.
‘All done,’ she said. ‘Shall we go outside and have a look at her?’
He nodded and the two of them made their way out. As the entrance via the stable door in the kitchen was locked, they walked from the front door to the rear of the property.
Celeste had landed as if she was doing a jumping jack. Her legs and arms were extended; a large pool of blood had settled like treacle underneath her body and around her head area. Celeste’s neck lay at an awkward angle and Maya suspected it was broken. Most of her face
