Ignoring his every word, Broderick walked over towards the pair and nodded at Sullivan.
‘Who’s vis?’
‘I’m DS Sullivan, Chief Inspector. Pleased to meet you.’
‘Yoo noo?’
‘Officer on secondment, sir, yes. From London.’
Broderick shook his head. ‘Norody bruddy tells me anyfring!’
‘What did he say?’ Calbot asked Sullivan quietly, as Broderick moved off towards the front of the boat house.
‘He said, nobody tells him anything. I think the anaesthetic is impeding his speech.
Calbot smirked, ‘Oh dear. What a shame.’
‘For me, yeah.’ Sullivan looked resigned. ‘Great start, eh? Just brilliant.’
Outside, Broderick sat in his Mercedes, scribbling furiously in a brown leather-bound notebook. The mechanic stood beside him. He looked up as Sullivan and Calbot exited from the shadows of the building into the fierce heat of the sun.
‘What is this all about?’ the man asked, raising his arms in the air.
‘I sloddin ‘ell giv ‘ub’.’ the Chief Inspector growled, tearing a page from his notebook and handing it to the mechanic. The man looked at it in confusion.
‘Do you sell fish?’ he read out loud and turned to Sullivan. ‘What the hell does this mean?’
‘The, uh... Chief Inspector asked,’ Sullivan replied, attempting translation, ‘Whether or not you sell fish, Mr...?.’
‘Bessano. It was my wife who died here.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Bessano.’
Sullivan was interrupted by her boss.
‘Yust onsor the gestion, pwees.’
‘Sell fish? No, I mend boats. If you want fish you’ll need to go to the market.’
Broderick furiously scribbled another note and this time simply thrust the pad at Sullivan.
‘The Inspector asks if you can recommend anyone. For fish, I imagine.’
‘Oh. Well, Medina Bros at the market is probably your best bet. Second counter on the left. What does this have to do with the death of my wife, exactly?’
More scribbling, followed by another thrust of the notepad towards Sullivan.
‘He says: “Nothing. I just like good fish.’ A few moments’ confused silence followed. Sullivan decided to change the conversation. ‘Is there anyone else staying here, Mr Bassano?’
‘No, not really,’ Bassano replied, clearly taken aback.
‘Is that right?’ Sullivan queried. ‘Only I thought I saw somebody upstairs when we arrived, sir.’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course. That is my grandson. He’s been here for a few days while his parents are in Portugal. They’re hurrying back now, of course, after the news.’
‘Was he here yesterday?’ Calbot asked. ‘During all that?’
‘Yes, he was. I got him next door to our neighbours straight away. He’s very upset, I’m sure you understand.’
Broderick scribbled another note. It read: ‘Call him’.
‘
Bassano hesitated for a moment, then began to call. ‘Julio! Julio, come down here, please!’
The clearly nervous boy appeared at the upstairs window, his eyes stained red.
Broderick had led the way back into the building. The others followed with Bassano still clearly upset at the request to see his grandson.
‘Look, how many times?’ Bassano pleaded. ‘It was an accident! Julia had brought me tea. I thought she had gone. I lowered the boat. It dropped, like you saw. It’s a fault with the lift, it must be – it’s never happened before. It just dropped. I don’t know why she was even under the boat!’
Broderick threw Sullivan a look as if to say that he’d be interested in discovering the reason for that also.
‘Why can’t you just leave us in peace? Bassano continued. ‘We’ve had enough grief this past twenty four hours.’
Julio appeared at his grandfather’s side. Sullivan looked at the clearly traumatized boy and smiled gently.
‘Right. Julio. We are police officers. There’s no need to be afraid. We just need to ask you a few questions. Is that OK?’
The child looked at Bassano for approval.
‘Look, leave the lad alone,’ the grandfather said. ‘Can’t you see he’s upset enough as it is?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Bassano, but we really do need to get to the bottom of this. Do you like boats, Julio?’ Sullivan asked gently.
The child looked at his grandfather, then nodded his head.
Sullivan continued ‘They’re great, aren’t they?’
Another nod.
‘Is that boat your favourite?’ Sullivan pointed to the boat.
Another nod.
‘Does your grandfather let you get inside the boat sometimes, Julio?’
‘Now, that’s quite enough,’ Bassano barked. ‘This is getting ridiculous!’
Calbot placed a reassuring hand on Bassano’s shoulder. The grandfather’s reaction had alerted Sullivan to another possibility. She continued her probing under Broderick’s silent stare.
‘Have you ever tried to drive a boat on your own, Julio?’
Reluctantly, the boy nodded his head.
‘Is that what you were doing yesterday?’
‘What the hell are you saying?’ Bassano cried. ‘You’ve no right to interrogate him like this! He’s just a boy!’
Chief Inspector Broderick touched Sullivan on the arm and indicated that she should wait. He moved swiftly to the hydraulic’s controls. On the floor where they had fallen lay a large bag of sweets. Holding them up for all to see he asked as best he could... ‘Dese are ‘oors ah vey Oolio?’
‘What do you mean?’ Bassano replied.
Broderick looked to his translator for help. Sullivan nodded to him and turned once more to boy.
‘Those are your sweets, aren’t they Julio?’
The boy looked again to his grandfather but could take no more. Tears began to fall down his cheeks once more. Bassano swept the lad into his arms and then turned on the accusers in desperation.
‘Okay, okay! Listen. It wasn’t his fault. Please. He came down here on his own. He’s done it before – to play on the boat. We tried telling him time and time again to keep away. Julia told me she was going to find him. She must have been trying to catch him when it happened. Maybe that was why she was under the boat, I don’t know. Next thing, I heard a cry and came running down. The boat had dropped and Julio was stood by the controls screaming like a wild thing. He must have set the hydraulics off... somehow...I don’t understand... he didn’t know... Please don’t blame him, I beg you! It’s all my fault, not his. Mine!’
Broderick looked at the ruined man and spoke as clearly as he could. ‘Yes. It is.’
The marked police car drew up and Calbot showed a WPC into the building as Broderick and Sullivan stood by the old Mercedes.
‘Sir? I’m sorry, but can I be blunt?’ Sullivan asked.
Broderick looked at her, but said nothing.
She continued. “I’m sorry that nobody bothered to tell you I was arriving, sir. It’s obvious that it’s irritated you and I understand that. But I’d like you to know that this job is very important to me. It’s not quite the brief I’d
