Maya headed back into the kitchen alone and proceeded to take a saliva swab from the rim of the gin glass. She wrote the swabs and the exhibit bag out carefully, while considering why she was doing it. Both she and Jack had agreed that Celeste had committed suicide.
And yet… And yet…
Maya still couldn’t shake off the peculiarity of the suicide note. She reasoned that swabbing and fingerprinting the glass was a precaution. It was easier to do it now rather than kicking herself later on. If Jack was right that Celeste had company before she killed herself, then maybe evidence from the glass could help identify that person. As the last person to have seen her alive, they could then provide an assessment of her state of mind. She would write up her rationale in her crime-scene report.
After taking the saliva swab, she proceeded to fingerprint the glass, but as she had partly anticipated, the cut-glass pattern caused any ridge detail to become distorted. That, along with the overlapping and smudged marks, meant it was not possible to obtain any clear prints from the glass. ‘I’ve tried,’ she said through a sigh as she recovered the note then packed up her kit and left the kitchen, eager to peel off her sticky scene suit.
Maya returned to the van, wishing, not for the first time that it had decent air conditioning. It was not always topped up in the police vehicles as it was not considered essential and therefore a waste of money. She sat sweltering as she wrote up her scene notes. Once she had finished, Maya signed herself out of the scene log and drove away from Field View. She was relieved to notice that Wainwright’s car had gone as she pulled out onto Mile Lane. Jack was sat in his car, engrossed in a conversation on his mobile phone. Spotting her, he gestured to Maya to join him in his vehicle.
Maya was locking the van when she heard a familiar voice call her name.
‘SOCO Barton, what’s the verdict on Celeste Warren’s death? Is it suicide or is it suspicious?’ Wainwright had appeared out of nowhere and was extending a dictaphone in her direction. Maya was horrified to see he was accompanied by a younger man with a film camera propped on his shoulder, wielding it in her direction.
‘No comment. And I don’t want to be filmed.’ She shielded her face with her hands, willing herself to remain calm as the two men circled her like sharks.
‘Have you finished at the crime scene, Maya?’ Wainwright persisted. ‘Have you scraped her up and shipped her to the corpse-cooler like you said you were going to? Do you have respect for the bodies you deal with, Maya?’
Wainwright was on a roll now, firing questions at Maya. His earlier avuncular manner was now replaced with the callousness of a predator on the hunt, digging for a story at any cost. ‘Do you think the last three sudden deaths of known criminals are suspicious, Maya? You said there was no such thing as coincidence in the police. Do the public need to be concerned that there could be a serial killer on the loose?’
Maya couldn’t speak. She opened and closed her mouth, uncertain what to do or say. The sight of the camera was horrifying. All she could think about was how Kym was going to react. She was overwhelmed with relief to see Jack striding towards them.
He pulled himself up to his full height and directed his comments towards the camera, asserting an air of authority and certainty. ‘We are not looking for anybody else following the unfortunate death of Ms Celeste Warren. An official police statement will be released later today,’ he stated calmly.
‘There have been no suspicious circumstances relating to any other sudden deaths that have recently been investigated. Any suggestion that there has been third-party involvement is pure supposition.’ He paused to let his comment sink in, brows creased to accentuate the solemnity of the situation. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, my colleague and I are now leaving the scene. We have no further comments to make to the press.’ He flashed a catwalk smile at the camera before giving an imperceptible nod in Wainwright’s direction.
Guiding her by the elbow, Jack led Maya to his car where they both sank back into their seats with relief.
‘Bastards,’ Jack said as he watched Wainwright and the camera man scuttle away. ‘I thought he’d gone.’
‘Me too.’ Maya shook her head. ‘I looked for his car as I pulled out. They must have parked up around the corner and waited for us. This situation is just getting worse. What did the boss say?’
‘He wasn’t particularly happy but sympathetic none the less. He knows Wainwright of old and doesn’t blame you for talking to him. I better let him know what’s just happened, though, and the press office can start preparing an official statement. You head back while the coast is clear. Try not to worry, eh?’
Maya smiled weakly. That was certainly easier said than done. Her comments had been shared on camera and were no doubt going to cause a media frenzy. Although DI Redford may be appreciative of Maya’s predicament, she knew that there was little hope of Kym reacting in the same way. She had no choice but to head back to Beech Field as soon as she could and fill Kym in on what had happened before she heard it from another source. She was not looking forward to the inevitable bollocking that was headed her way.
18
Piotr Nowak was brooding. He’d been remanded in custody following his recent arrest, which pissed him off enough. What he hadn’t seen coming was a request by DI Redford to the prison intelligence unit to have him sent to a separate prison away from Aiden Donnelly. According to
