The automaticfront doors to the library parted, encouraging him to leave the warm and dryconfines and step out into the torrential downpour. It was hard, verticalrain that had been waiting patiently to be unleashed for several days. Hepulled his coat in tightly and made a run for the car, as a dramatic flash oflightening illuminated the sky and zig-zagged through the black clouds.
Morton was eternally grateful to get aparking spot directly outside Soraya’s house. He was fairly confidentthat nobody had followed him, although the thick curtain of rain had preventedhim from seeing much beyond a car’s length behind him. He waited in theMini for a few minutes, hoping that the rain would ease up a little, but itonly seemed to worsen. He decided to use the opportunity to flick throughthis week’s edition of the Tenterden Times, which he’d picked up at anewsagents on his way here. Just by looking at the headline Morton knewthat this was going to be a pointless exercise. Hunt on for MysteryLotto Winner. And, sure enough, Peter Coldrick’s death didn’t raiseas much as a paragraph in the paper.
Morton dialledthe main office of the Tenterden Times (incongruously based inMaidstone). A chirpy female receptionist answered, ‘Good afternoon, WealdNewspaper Group, Melanie speaking, how can I help you?’
‘Goodafternoon, I’m ringing to enquire about a story in the Tenterden Times.’
‘Oh yes,’Melanie answered pleasantly, encouraging him to continue.
‘Well, I say astory in the Tenterden Times but it’s actually a lack of a story. I wondered why you failed to report on the suicide of Peter Coldrick lastweek? He shot himself –’
‘One moment,I’ll just put you through to our news team,’ Melanie interrupted.
The openingbars of Endless Love were cut short by a growling male voice that didn’tbother with all the company niceties. ‘Yes?’
‘Goodafternoon,’ Morton said, attempting to tame the lion aurally, ‘I’m wonderingwhy the inscrutable death of Peter Coldrick last week wasn’t reported in the TenterdenTimes?’
The line wentquiet. Was the lion tamed, or dead?
‘We didn’tthink it warranted space in what was a news-heavy week. People commit suicideall the time; it’s hardly a scoop,’ he answered gruffly.
Morton couldn’thelp himself. ‘I’m sorry – news-heavy – you say? Do I needto read the headline about the search for someone who might have purchased alottery ticket from the newsagents on the High Street and who, by your ownadmission, might not even be a local! This man, Peter Coldrick issupposed to have shot himself, but I’m telling you that-’
‘I’m sorry –who is this?’
‘Investigateit,’ Morton implored, before ending the call. He reached across to thepassenger seat and picked up the photocopies that he had just made at AshfordLibrary. He wondered if he should share the information with Soraya butdecided against it. He wanted more evidence first. He filed thepapers away in his briefcase and decided to make a run for it. The rainwas never going to ease up. Morton grabbed the briefcase and ran towardsthe house, hammering histrionically on the front door.
Soraya appearedwith the artificial smile of a bereaved woman. ‘Come in.’ Morton steppedinside and she took his drenched coat from him. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘That’s okay,’he said, following her into the lounge. She looked like she needed a hugbut he wasn’t the type to just embrace a relative stranger. He blamed hisconservative upbringing for such arrant unsentimentality; he couldn’t recall asingle childhood embrace from either parent.
‘Take a seat,’Soraya said quietly, raising a finger to her bloodshot eyes.
‘Thanks,’ hesaid, eying an A4 white envelope that she was clutching tightly.
‘Here,’ Sorayasaid, passing it to him.
Morton openedthe envelope and withdrew two sheets of paper. The first, headed with theKent County coat of arms was a short and succinct letter from the coroner,offering his condolences with the accompanying post mortem results. Heturned the page, passing over Peter Coldrick’s personal details.
ExternalExamination…the body was that of an underweight male of approximately the agestated. Height 5 ft. 8 inches, Weight 56kg. Rigor mortis was presentin the limbs and there was hypostatic staining of the posterior bodysurfaces. There were no external marks of violence. Natural teethwere present in the mouth. No scars were identified. Trace soot andpropellant staining to both hands…concentric seared circular wound of 5.4cm toleft temple.
With anincreasing sense of nausea, Morton scanned his eyes down the page, unable totake in the gruesome level of detail. Internal Examination, brain1637g …Cardio-Vascular System…Respiratory System…Gastro-IntestinalSystem…Genito-Urinary System…Endocrine System…Conclusion…The necropsyappearances indicate that death is the result of a self-inflicted singlegunshot wound to the head….Cause of Death: Suicide.
‘Suicide,’Soraya said flatly when Morton met her gaze. She sat herself down besidehim. ‘Not even an open verdict or the possibility of murder. I mean, not even a mention of the suicide note being typed with nosignature. I phoned the coroner as soon as it arrived but she justregurgitated everything she said there.’ A lone tear rolled down over herright cheek. ‘At least the body’s been released for a funeral now.’ She said ‘the body’ carelessly, as if referring to a dead gerbil or stickinsect. Morton reminded himself that death affected everyone in differentways. After his mother died it was his father’s way to repeatedlydeep-clean the oven; it was Jeremy’s way to entirely stop talking for the bestpart of three months.
Mortonabandoned his fear and put his arm around Soraya’s shoulder. For a briefmoment she froze and he thought that he had overstepped the mark, lecherouslytaking advantage of a grieving woman, but she buried her head in his chest andburst into tears. The words forming in his mouth all sounded trite orclichéd, so he said nothing and just held her closely.
Soraya releasedherself and semi-circled her thumb under each eye before taking a deepbreath. ‘They’ve finished at his house, too,’ she said. ‘Will youcome with me while I look through his personal effects? I’ve no idea atall of his...wishes. It’s just not the sort of thing you asksomeone in their thirties.’
‘Yeah, ofcourse I will,’ Morton said.
‘I was thinkingabout going over there today if you’re free?’
‘Yeah,
