‘Thanks guv, but he was my mate. I feel I should...’
Calbot could not finish. He was clearly moved.
‘I understand.’ Broderick sympathised. ‘At least stay out here.’
Calbot pulled himself up.
‘I’ll do my job, guv. Thanks anyway.’
Broderick nodded and both men entered the building. A moment later they were in Bryant’s apartment and moving through into the living room. The sight before him, although expected, still managed to shock Broderick. Bryant’s lifeless body hung from the ceiling. His legs swung in limbo over a fallen chair as the breeze came in through an open window. The police photographer was at work recording the grisly image. Broderick noticed that the rope around Bryant’s neck had been looped over a large hook in the ceiling, then fed back to the bedroom door where it had been tied off and secured around the handle. The hook had clearly been installed especially for the job and had obviously proved fit for purpose. It suggested to Broderick that the dead officer had put some real thought into creating this macabre scene.
‘Morning, Chief Inspector,’ Professor Laytham boomed.
‘Morning, Prof. Been in the wars?’
Laytham had a plaster on his forehead. Typically of the pathologist, the dressing had been attached at a rather sporty angle.
‘Slipped in the bloody shower this morning. Could have achieved a most ignominious end for myself, Chief Inspector. Still, not as bad as this poor fellow. One of yours, I hear?’
Remarkably, the radio was still playing in the corner. Broderick bit. ‘Will somebody PLEASE turn that bloody thing off?’ Calbot obliged, and Broderick continued. ‘Suicide?’
‘I’d say. Typical of its kind. A painful one, too, I fear. They always think it’s going to be quick, but they never give themselves a long enough drop. To break the neck, I mean. That’s the hangman’s skill. Too long, mind, and you’ll snap the head clean off.’ As Laytham said this, he snapped his fingers as if to emulate the noise.
‘Yes, well .’ Broderick turned to his DC. ‘Calbot? Did he leave a note? Anything at all?’
‘Not that we’ve found, guv.’
‘Right. Well, keep looking.’ Broderick looked troubled. Moving back into the hall, he entered the small kitchen. The burnt out pan had been placed in the sink. There was some damage to the electric hob, but nothing major. There had obviously been more smoke than fire associated with the incident. There was another door coming off the kitchen. Much to his surprise, Broderick found it wasn’t locked. It opened onto a shared communal yard full of bins and detritus. A few yards down he could see a door in the wall which most probably led out onto a side street.
‘He was a good bloke, you know, guv.’ Calbot was at his boss’s shoulder.
‘Didn’t know you mixed with uniformed.’
‘Not if I can help it. We just liked the footie, that’s all. He was a United supporter, like me.’
‘Not really a good enough reason to commit suicide, Calbot.’
Calbot momentarily appreciated the black humour.
‘Heh.’
Broderick checked the kitchen cupboards. All plates, pots and pans spick and span in regimental order. He also was aware of a distinct smell. A sort of disinfectant. He’d noticed it first in the living room, but it was somewhat stronger in the kitchen. An old-fashioned smell, at least to Broderick’s senses, an aroma that was familiar. He couldn’t place it. The Chief Inspector turned to Calbot.
‘We all knew he’d taken the Tavares accident badly. Did he give any indication that it might lead to this?’
‘Not to me, guv. He wasn’t himself, but he seemed to be getting on with it.’
‘You ever been here before?’ Broderick asked. ‘To this apartment?’
‘Once or twice. To watch soccer. Have a drink.’
‘The place is immaculate. Even his DVD collection is in alphabetical order,’ Broderick observed. ‘Neat as a pin ,was he?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, guv. Tell the truth the place was always a bit of a pit.
His locker at the station is much the same. We take the piss out of...’
Calbot stopped in realisation of the need to use the past participle.
‘...took the piss out of him about it. Shit. Sorry guv, but why didn’t he just talk to us? He didn’t have to do this.’
Broderick patted the younger man on the shoulder.
‘You get back to the station. Clear your head.’
Calbot pulled himself together.
‘No thanks, sir. I’d rather keep busy if it’s alright with you?’
‘ Okay. Check and see if Bryant used a cleaner. Someone he hired to tidy the pit.’
‘Will do.’
Calbot moved off as Broderick re-entered the living room. Looking once more at the scene, Broderick mused to himself.
‘Or maybe the accident changed Bryant in more ways than one.’
Sullivan appeared behind him at the door. She did her best to avoid looking directly at the hanging corpse.’
‘Sir?’
Broderick turned to acknowledge her.
‘Been talking to the apartment superintendent. She lives directly opposite. She says that she was woken by Bryant. He’d made quite a lot of noise getting into the building, apparently. She thought he’d been drinking.’
‘What time was this?’ Broderick enquired.
‘ She says it was just after four. Ten minutes or so later the fire alarm went off, so she got her pass key and gained entry.’
‘Milk on the stove.’
‘Yes sir.’
Broderick gathered his thoughts.
‘So that means Bryant arrived back home, put some milk on the stove to warm it, switched his radio on and then decided to top himself?’
‘Looks that way, sir,’ Sullivan replied.
Broderick turned to see Bryant’s body being carefully lifted down from the hook in the ceiling.
‘ Yes...I suppose it does.’
Massetti sat at her desk, her pounding head in her hands as Broderick stood over her.
‘So what are you saying, Broderick?’
‘I’m just voicing my concerns, ma’am.’
Broderick had seen Massetti under pressure many times before, but never quite to this extent. He knew he had to tread carefully. Massetti looked up at her Chief Inspector.
‘If you’re saying what I think you’re saying – that Bryant’s death was the result of something else – then you’d better have more than just a feeling of unease about it. What did Laytham come up with in the post mortem?’
‘Death caused by hanging. Suicide, in his view.’
‘In his view, but not in yours?’
‘No, ma’am.’
Massetti stood and moved to her office window.
‘And the forensics boys?’
‘Nothing of significance from the Glee Club, ma’am.’
‘Please don’t refer to them as that, Broderick’
‘Nothing significant from
‘Doesn’t look wonderfully promising, does it?’
