12
Broderick sipped a double espresso at a corner table of the police canteen as Sullivan reiterated her theories about the deaths of Ferra and Bryant.
‘Both were traumatised by the accident and the death of Mrs Tavares, we know that much. Bryant took his life and Ferra decided to follow him. I saw him last night, guv, and he didn’t look too great.’
‘It’s possible, but it just doesn’t ring true somehow.’
‘Or maybe... who knows... they made some sort of double suicide pact. Stranger things have happened.’
‘Indeed they have.’
Calbot entered the busy canteen and strode towards his colleagues.
‘Something interesting, guv.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Broderick didn’t even look up.
‘A woman across the marina saw a man walking away from Ferra’s boat at about 11:35 last night. Thought he looked a bit odd. It was too dark and too far away to get any useful description, apparently.’
‘Have the CCTV checks come back yet?’ Broderick asked.
‘That’s just the thing, guv. The CCTV in that part of the marina was down last night. Unidentifiable technical clitch, apparently.’
Broderick threw his hands up in despair.
‘Great. Bloody great. One step forward, two steps back.’
‘Oh...and Massetti is wanting to see you, guv‘ Calbot added. ’Seemed quite agitated. In fact, I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her swear.’
Calbot headed off . Broderick unhurredly continued to drink his coffee.
Fifty minutes later, Broderick bumped into Massetti as she was walking across the back yard of the police headquarters to her car.
‘These men died of asphyxia and a broken neck respectively, Broderick. Both injuries caused by hanging. Most likely cause, suicide. You heard it yourself from the pathologist.’
‘There’s no question that they were hung, ma’am. However, we have an unidentified man walking away from Ferra’s boat just minutes after his arrival. Also, the rope used in both hangings appears to be of the same type. And in Ferra’s case, it wasn’t a type of rope usually considered appropriate for marine use.’
Massetti paused for a moment. ‘And forensics?’
‘Forensics are yet to report. Sullivan’s chasing them up.’
‘Right. Well, we’ll wait for that, shall we?’
‘The marina’s pedestrian lighting had been cut off, ma’am. The CCTV was conveniently out of action and neither of the men left suicide notes.’
As Massetti reached her car, she clicked the remote lock and opened the door.
‘So what you’re saying is...’
‘Maybe they weren’t suicides. Maybe they were both the victims of some kind of execution.’
Massetti turned to face Broderick and folded her arms across her chest. ‘By whom, exactly?’
‘Someone who’s decided to set themselves up as judge and jury.’
‘Martin Tavares, you mean?’
‘Well, I certainly think we should question him, ma’am.’
‘On what grounds exactly? You’re playing with fire as usual, Broderick. You have no understanding of the pressure this force is under right now. And on this one, I’m where the buck stops. Do you understand? The irony is that the press are actually feeling slightly guilty about the deaths. Well that’s fine by me. But if you think I’m going to let you go after a grieving widower with absolutely no hard evidence whatsoever, you must be bloody well insane. Everything points to a tragic suicide pact by two traumatised officers. That’s what happened Broderick. Get used to it.’
Massetti got into her car and started the engine. Broderick stood rooted to the spot. Maybe she was right, but he’d never been an ‘
Broderick and Sullivan pulled up at the edge of Gibraltar’s Eastern Beach, an enormous swathe of golden sand running for several hundred metres on the eastern side of the isthmus connecting The Rock to Spain. It was well known for being Gib’s sunniest beach and today was no exception. It was one thirty p.m and the sun was high in the cloudless sky. The beach was busy with families of children and those observing the time offered by an old - fashioned siesta to sunbathe and swim in the warm Mediterranean waters. Broderick wiped the sweat from his brow as a patrol car pulled up beside them. He was not a lover of sunshine and positively hated the beach. Walking on sand in laced up shoes was a particularly unpleasant and arduous chore, but one Broderick now had to brace himself for. He nodded to Sullivan to follow him and both detectives walked towards the water’s edge, where Martin Tavares was standing, rod in hand, fishing.
‘Mr Tavares?’ Broderick enquired. ‘I’m Chief Inspector Broderick. This is DS Sullivan.’
‘What do you want?’ Tavares asked, concentrating his attention on the line in front of him.
‘We need to ask you a few questions about the death of PC Bryant.’
‘What about it?’
‘And the subsequent death of PC Ferra.’
Tavares turned sharply to them – a look of genuine surprise upon his face.
‘He’s dead too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, well, well.’ A few moments’ silence passed before Tavares decided to put down his fishing rod.
Sullivan could see that her boss was suffering from the direct heat of the early afternoon sun. She, on the other hand, was glad to get out of the office and was making a mental note to get across to the beach later in the day for a swim and a little R and R.
Martin Tavares dragged heavily on a cigarette. ‘So what? Ferra top himself as well then? Or did he die from natural causes?’
‘We haven’t come to the conclusion that these deaths were the result of suicide, Mr Tavares ’ Broderick responded. Tavares smiled.
‘Well, it seems pretty obvious to me. Obviously the bastards had more of a conscience than I gave them credit for.’
‘There are certain inconsistencies in both cases which are troubling us’ Broderick countered.
‘Such as?’
‘Well, that’s for us to know at the moment, sir. Would you tell us where you were on the morning of the twelfth and the evening of the fifteenth of this month?’
Tavares now glared at them. ‘Do you think I had something to do with this? Are you out of your tiny minds?’
‘If you’d just answer the question, please, sir.’ Sullivan insisted.
‘Go to hell!’
Broderick said nothing, but glanced over his shoulder to the two uniformed constables standing a discreet distance away. Within moments they had moved in to arrest Martin Tavares.
13
The interview room door slammed shut behind Broderick and Sullivan. Calbot was waiting for them outside the room.
‘Any joy?’ He asked hopefully.
‘No,’ Broderick replied. ‘Says he was out night fishing on those dates. On his own.’
‘Been camping out on the beach,’ Sullivan added. ‘Says he needed to get away from well-meaning friends and relatives.’
‘Anyone corroborate that?’ Calbot asked.
